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SUPER VICE SQUAD! (IC, M)

The realms with realistic settings lacking the influence of magic and having technology more in line with our own world based on the time period. The worlds themselves may still be fictional or exist on an alternate timeline. Examples: Fight Club, Lord of the Flies, Breaking Bad.

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Re: SUPER VICE SQUAD! (IC, M)

Post by Moccasin » Mon Dec 11, 2017 11:14 am

Jackie watched as the men raced towards their cars, leaving behind the smell of powdered sugar and cheap poutine.

"...Okay. What the fuck was that?"

Jackie huffed, before buttoning her shirt forcefully. "We're going."

The rental sputtered as it pulled out of the lot, plastic bags furling in its wake.

"Fucking ass. His city? I bet 20 dollars he's some hipster bitch from the 'burbs."

"¿Quién demonios pensó que sería una buena idea contratar a esta perra egoísta y Sleazebag McGee por aquí? Y por supuesto, él es su hermano, dos caras de la misma maldita moneda. Psych will have a field day with these disrespectful fucks."

"Hey, hey. His fucking city. His fucking city is Fairbanks, that's what his hometown is. Coming out here with his bitch attitude. He thought. He really thought."

"I don't want no scrub
A scrub is a guy that can't get no love from me
Hangin' out the passenger side
Of his best friend's ride
Trying to holla at me."

"If he doesn't shut the fuck up I'mma pop one in his ass."
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Re: SUPER VICE SQUAD! (IC, M)

Post by Rick » Thu Dec 21, 2017 6:32 am

Detective Rick rolled down the window on the front passenger side of the car, sticking his hand out and letting it run with the wind current. He sunk on his seat, the top of his head right below the head rest. In this moment he was incased within himself, his high keeping him comfortably in the moment. The Downtown LA skyline came into view and Rick started drumming on the door as the Rolling Stone’s “Sympathy for the Devil” played on the car radio. It wasn’t enough to keep the sinking feeling away though, the sinking feeling of guilt.

That girl was dead along with half a dozen others thanks to the taco strangler and now he had the FBI sniffing around. Vice squad didn’t always operate by the rules, but they got stuff done. The FBI twins wouldn’t see it that way. Rick liked that.

“Hey, Donut boy, what do you think about FBI twins as a new nickname for the pencil pushers?” Rick turned and looked at Duncan, who simply gave him a disappointed look and kept on driving.

“Well, fuck you too,” Rick said under his breath as he went back to looking out the window, staring at the skyscrapers as they grew closer.

After a good half hour of driving, Duncan finally arrived back at HQ. Rick got out of the car while Duncan went off to park the car, riding the elevator up to his office. The hall was busy with activity now; analysts, cops, and clerks raced up and down between cubicles trying to get their work in before lunch.

“Basil!.......Basil?......where the hell is Basil?” The office stopped as everyone looked around, trying to find the newest Vice squad intern.

“Well, if anyone sees her, tell her to get me an Iced mocha and a Reuben from Langer’s deli, ASAP, I’ll be in my office.”
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Re: SUPER VICE SQUAD! (IC, M)

Post by Georgeanna » Thu Dec 21, 2017 9:21 am

The sun played on the dash as Basil leisurely wound her way through the LA streets. Some idiot cut her off, but it didn’t matter at the moment. It was a gorgeous day, she was on the way to the beach to take some insta pics, and she was—late. Like really late. Rolling her eyes in more annoyance than anything else, Basil jerked the wheel making an illegal u-turn and flipping off several drivers who sounded their horns at her.

“Move out of my way bitches,” she said half-way giggling to herself. A sound pinged on her phone as she straightened out the wheel and zoomed down the street. Dan, some nameless cop she had given her number to during a drunken night out, had messaged her.

Ur screwed. Rick’s in. Iced mocha…


Basil ignored the rest of the message, heading towards Langer’s. Whatever. She would get there when she got there.

Making sure to take several selfies with the hot counter-boy, Basil picked up the order and squealed out of the parking lot. Despite herself, she actually sort of liked this internship—but not more than her brand deal with Crocs. That was the best. Sure she had gotten some weird foot comments in her private message box, but it had been totally #worth.

Basil pulled into the parking lot, aligning her car horizontally across two spaces. She made sure to take her sweet ass time, being sure to let the ice melt into the milky brown of the coffee. No one likes a kiss ass. Straightening her tight as skin body-con dress, aviators, and her floppy sun hat, Basil sashayed into the office, watery coffee and food in tow.
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Re: SUPER VICE SQUAD! (IC, M)

Post by Palacia » Tue Dec 26, 2017 5:55 pm

Duncan drove the car into the parking garage and parked the beast in his designated spot. He sighed, thoughts reeled and mind flailing about attempting to regain hold of reason. On the outside his disposition had placed him in a particular role in life; the others admired him for his detective work, insightful nature and intuitive prediction. Yet on the inside he, like most, well at least that’s what he assumed, was a mire of chaotic thoughts and desire to avenge the wronged.

Although the newest case the Squad was working on was a puzzle. He hadn’t a clue on this one, the murder weapon, the victim, even the location confused the Detective. Nothing intuitive about this, nor would it put him any closer to solving the murder of his family and little sister Powder. He, on this rare occasion, pulled from within a pocket a case of cigarettes, smoothly pulled one out, lit it, and puffed. Rubbed his hand over his face, pausing at the stubby beard that had started to grow in neglect of the razor.

“ You know, one mother fucking day, this city had better fucking pay my ass back.” His voice echoing off the parking garage empty walls.

He headed inside and up into the bustling offices of the Vice Squad. He trailed inside, weaving his way between people until arriving at his desk, awaiting the chiefs next move. Duncan’s mind meanwhile spent adrift attempting to puzzle together this strange case.
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Re: SUPER VICE SQUAD! (IC, M)

Post by Business Narwhal » Sat Dec 30, 2017 7:16 am

Lester was rudely woken up from his nap by the sound of the office all-in-one machine choking on whatever it was working on. Lester rubbed his eyes. Are one of the techs in already? Is it time to go home? Thank goodness. Lester pulled his cheap watch in front of his face. It had been less than twenty minutes. What did I put in the printer?

Lester dragged his feet over to the machine. A photograph of the most recent taco killer victim was jammed in the intake. A couple other photographs still sat in the tray, only one had already gone through.

“Oh fudge!” Lester carefully retrieved the jammed photograph. Just another thing to blame on the techs. Another thing to ask the City Council to buy a newer version of. They weren’t supposed to fax the photographs anyway since the originals were expected to be added to the case files. Lester took the photographs face down as he looked through the victim's related forms. He did not want to look at the carnage again. The officer in charge of the case was one ‘Captain Detective Ricardo Powers III.’

“Gosh darn Vice Squad…”

This was Lester’s mantra as he braved the traffic to get to the department headquarters. He got quiet around the cops rushing around for lunchtime at the entrance to the department. Most of them avoided him too. Whether he actually did or not, people believed he smelled like death. Oh wait… A flannel sleeve with just a bit of rotting flesh in it was dragging on his foot. Piece of a mechanic from a local bike shop who died from an arterial bleed after his arm got caught up in some machine. A couple of the cops at the door started to take a distant interest in him.

“Um…medical waste day is always messy over at the morgue.”

He pulled the sleeve off and threw it in the nearest bin. How did I not notice that? Guess I’ll have to report another tech today.

Inside the department, Lester went for the first coffee machine he could find. He took the most neutral looking mug, 'LAPD's #1 Dad,' he could find and poured himself a cup. He drank a mouthful and spewed it out a moment later. It was ice cold. He looked around and realized everyone was holding cups from various franchises and local cafes.

“Gosh darn Vice Squad.”

Finally, he reached the appropriate office. He knocked on the door.

“Ricardo? It’s Dr. Tusk, from the morgue. I have photos from the latest taco killer victim!”

Maybe he screamed the last bit with too much gusto because cops in the office were looking at him again. At least it wasn’t human remains, this time.
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Re: SUPER VICE SQUAD! (IC, M)

Post by Forge » Wed Jan 03, 2018 8:24 am

Rick's desk was a cushy construction of sprawling mahogany, occupied primarily by two dangerously-stacked piles of case files that seemed to be competing over which could climb the highest, an oversized LCD monitor that was blatantly not standard issue, and a solitary coffee mug ring that no amount of scraping, scrubbing or bargaining with could remove. Between these landmarks was a generous clear patch, just the right size for someone to lean back in their snazzy leather chair and prop their feet on the desk, from which position they could think deep and meaningful thoughts about their current cases, or sleep through Friday afternoons - whichever seemed the most productive. Normally that space would have been taken up by Detective Captain Powers himself, and would have been today, had it not been for the suited man who had apparently let himself into Rick's office, co-opted his chair and proceeded to prop his own well-polished shoes on the desk while he waited.
"Fifty-five felony arrests in the last year alone," Commander Irons called out as Rick entered the room, idly thumbing through one of the case files that had made up part of Stack Two's towering bulk. This one was for a perp the papers had dubbed the "Studio City Slasher", some idiot in a plastic mask who'd seen one-too-many movies and happened to own more than one kitchen knife. Honestly. Couldn't even get a decent class of criminal in this city. Irons flipped the file closed and tossed it onto the desk. "Honest to God, Powers; you and those Donut boys might be a risk to public safety, but you sure as shit get things done, huh?"

Frank tried to keep his visits to the precinct as infrequent as possible, both because Rick's team worked better when he left them to their own devices, and because human beings as a general rule were idiots. Rick he could tolerate: the Detective Captain was a kindred spirit, in that neither of them held any particular attachment to ethics as a facet of police work and Frank would be reluctant (though never unwilling) to throw him under the bus if it came to it. Likewise, the Donuts were, in their own advert-against-lead-in-housepaint kind of way, also moderately bearable. Then there were the standard detectives, who apparently it was his job to speak to at least occasionally; and the beat cops, and the administrators, and the civilian liasons, who all started to entertain funny notions about being 'friends' and interacting on a 'social' basis when you spent extended periods of time around them, and before you knew it they were trying to send you Christmas cards and inviting you to Faceless Employee #5's retirement party. Yeah. No thanks. Unfortunately, certain circumstances forced him to put in face time with the rank and file, and in this case it was the FBI's pointless insistence on bringing departmental progress to a grinding halt.

"Speaking of getting things done, I hear you met Washington's latest attempt to bring law enforcement to a grinding halt this morning. Believe me, I'm as thrilled about that as you are, but the Commissioner wants us to play nice and hold hands, so --" He paused as Basil entered the office, taking one look at the coffee in her hand before beckoning her forward and relieving her of it. The Commander took a swig, pulled a face, and then eased one of Rick's drawers open before spitting the offending mouthful inside and dumping the cup in along with it. "Guh," Frank said to Basil by way of feedback. "Didn't hire you for your catering skills, did they?" Pivoting, he extracted himself from Rick's chair, pausing only long enough to nudge the drawer closed with a foot before continuing. "Listen. Long story short, I need a heads-up on the case so far, and I need everyone together so we can do a little team pow-wow bullshit. So let's get, uh.." Irons gestured at Basil. "The Junior Justice Programme here to round up Thing One and Two along with our Bureau guests, and we can get this crap train rolling, huh?"
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Re: SUPER VICE SQUAD! (IC, M)

Post by Trekwars » Wed Jan 03, 2018 3:34 pm

"I, am SO screwed"

Trek sits in the middle lane of an 8 lane freeway. Typically he would be speeding in and out of cars in his small little red colored bug while sipping on some kind of caffeine or munching on a donut, but instead he was busying himself twiddling his thumbs in the middle of Rush Hour. As far as the eye can see cars can be seen stretching down the freeway, and with Trek's off-ramp on the far right lane it will take an eternity for him to get anywhere. Normally this wouldn't worry Trek, he would shake it off, put on some music, and simply relax, even though Rick said to get back to HQ as fast as he could he didn't care (It wouldn't be the first time he was late (Hence the license plate IAMLATE)).

However, with the stress of the FBI agents showing up Isaac had eaten through all of his rations. His main donut box, his back up donut box, the back up to his back up, the 3 emergency powdered donuts in his glove box, the donut holes he had stashed in the upholstery of his passenger seat, and the stale donut that has been on the floor for almost three months. As Trek sits there his eye starts to twitch as he feels the effects of donut withdrawal start to kick in. Trek pulls out his smartphone, checking and double checking his map to see where the closest donut shop is. As he does this the two lanes to his right start to slowly creep forward. Seeing an opportunity Trek hits the gas, merging into the lane to his right cutting off a Prius that was about to creep forward. No longer abiding by street rules Trek drives perpendicular to the rest of the cars going straight for the exit ramp.

Somehow through some miracle driving Trek survives this and is on his way speeding towards HQ with the license plate IAMLATE being accurate once again. After parking his car in the parking garage Trek sprints into the office running past desks and diving into his chair. His chair tips over and lands on the ground with a clatter, scattering papers, and boxes everywhere. However instead of moving Trek just lays on the ground munching on a Jelly filled donut he pulled out from under his desk.
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Thanks to Forge for the Signature text, Wad for the Avatar, and Georgie for the creative idea.

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Re: SUPER VICE SQUAD! (IC, M)

Post by Rick » Fri Jan 12, 2018 7:14 am

“God damn it, Irons, I was looking forward to eating my food in peace,” Captain Detective Rick adjusted his crotch as Commander Irons got off Rick’s cushy seat and informed him of the reason he stopped by.

Rick didn’t exactly dislike Irons, but the man was certainly as much an asshole as Rick was, if not more. Both took pleasure in fucking with people, which was fine on its own, but Rick felt Iron’s always took a certain satisfaction in screwing with Rick. A tax for being given so much freedom, but this was something he just couldn’t take lying down.

“Basil! BASIL!” Rick yelled out before Basil tapped him on the shoulder.

"Hey, numbskull. Behind you," Basil responded, hand on hip, with a level of sass Rick almost complimented her on it.

“Jesus H. Christ, girl, you don’t make a peep do you? Anyway, you gave my fucking coffee to Irons like I’m not the big dick supreme around here, so you get to clean my drawer,” Rick pointed towards his desk, clearly seeing Basil roll her eyes through her sun glasses.

The intern practically dragged her feet to Rick’s desk, opened the drawer and then slid important documents off Rick’s desk and into the coffee spit covered drawer.

“All done, Mr. Big Dick Supreme,” Basil folded her arms and struck a pose, taking a quick selfie and captioning it #Bosslife all in one swift motion.

“Get the fuck out of my office and get everyone ready before I fire you,” Rick held the door open and gave the stink eye to Basil until she was all the way out of his office, then he turned to Irons.

“When the indictments come in for blatant violation of the law, Irons, I’m going to enjoy every second you squirm in that court room,” Rick says with a smile on his face.

“By the time they get to me, if they ever get to me, you would already have been in prison for a long time, Detective.”

“That’s Captain Detective to you, you Irish fuck.”

“You know, I’m not really Irish, I just said that to get in good with the Irish police league back in New York city, that’s how I got the position here, Powers,” and with that Irons stepped into the office hall.

Now it was Rick’s turn to roll his eyes.

“That motherfucker, so help me god…” Rick closed his office door and followed Irons, and was about to giving him the rundown of the Taco strangler case while Basil went off to gather the rest of Vice Squad when the “Ghoul of the morgue” appeared out of nowhere and shouted at Rick.

“Ricardo? It’s Dr. Tusk, from the morgue. I have photos from the latest taco killer victim!”

The smell of death and formaldehyde hit Rick with the power of a Japanese bullet train, his senses going haywire and all Rick could do to regain any sort of composure was to sneeze very loudly.

“Jesus, Gh-Dr. Tusk, I didn’t see you there,” Both men stood there for an awkward five seconds as one waited for the other to speak.

Both were saved when Junior Detective Trekbastion came crashing through the door and made a bee line to his desk. The unhinged younger Donut brother proceed to fall over his chair but not before pulling a donut from some hidden compartment under his desk and greedily stuffing his face with it.

“Jesus Christ,” Rick said loud enough for the young detective to hear, but when he kept eating Rick grew irate,” Jesus, Trek, get off the fucking floor! Commander Irons is here, at least pretend that means something!”

Rick turned back to Dr. Tusk and snatched the photos from the good doctor’s surprisingly firm grip, noticing a strange tattoo on what he assumed was the body of the young girl murdered under the pier. It was one of a blue anchor……an anchor surprisingly similar to the one on that bum he saw back on the beach.

“hot damn, Tusk, we got us a suspect!” Detective Powers was so happy he kissed Tusk on the mouth, then just as quickly gagged and spit, wiping his mouth in disgust.

“What the hell do they spray you boys with down at the morgue?”
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Re: SUPER VICE SQUAD! (IC, M)

Post by Georgeanna » Fri Jan 12, 2018 12:41 pm

The click of heels was audible as Basil stomped out of Rick’s office. She muttered to herself as she looked at various trash on twitter—nothing like a good dog meme to make you feel better.

“’Get everyone’ he says. What does he think I am? A babysit—awww what a cute puppy!” she said still fully absorbed on her phone. She hardly realized that she had crossed the length of the department until she tripped on a mess on the floor and heard Rick screaming at Trek, as usual. She felt some slight empathy towards the pastry obsessed junior detective, he was just doing his best.

Basil looked down curiously. Paper clips, a chair, and a human? She narrowed her eyes, inspecting the massacre before her, quickly taking a snapshot and posting it to her SnapChat story.

“What the fu—Trek? What in the hell are you doing on the floor? And god, with a jelly donut?” Basil inquired judgmentally. Despite her disgust, she reached down, offering a hand in case he wanted to get up out of his mess.

Groping with his free hand for another donut, Trek accepted her help, getting up uneasily and immediately stuffing the new donut in his mouth.

Leaning on the side of his desk, powdered sugar dusting his face and the front of his shirt, Trek lazily replied: “Hey, don’t knock it till’ ya try it.”

Rolling her eyes and shrugging his off his comment, Basil tromped over to Duncan’s desk.

On her way, she felt a hand close around her arm. Whirling around, she found Dan, the clingy, no name cop she mistakenly gave her number to, looking at her quizzically.

“Did you get the message I sent you?” he said, sounding a bit lost.

Basil stuffed her phone in her bra and used her now free hand to pry every one of his fingers off of her arm, with a dirty glare.

“Got it. Rick is a diva. Handled it, like always.” She left him gaping while she paraded over to where Duncan was deep in thought.

Knocking on the wood of his desk to wake up the detective from his intense daydreaming, the determined, and slightly pissed off, intern looked him dead in the eye.

“Get up, please. Irons is here and it’s better that we don’t sit around drooling at our desks,” Basil suggested with a wicked grin and artificial cheer. Not waiting for a response, Basil continued over to the ever-growing group of people collected in the main hall and pulled her phone out of her dress. Two very pissed off women entered the hall as she approached.

Suddenly, Basil’s mouth dropped open and her camera shutter clicked closed several times as she snapped pics of a shady looking doctor and Rick locking lips. She plastered the photo on her Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram before three seconds had passed. Grinning with her success at the social media game, she approached them.

“All right,” she choked on her next word but did her best to keep her tone benign, “boss. Told the two other detectives to come at their own peril,” Basil smiled feeling self-accomplished. Holding her phone behind her back, she tweeted #bossassbitch with her free hand, as she extended one towards the doctor and nodded in a friendly manner towards the two official women standing nearby.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” she said with a flash of teeth. “To the briefing room then?”
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Re: SUPER VICE SQUAD! (IC, M)

Post by Forge » Thu Jan 25, 2018 3:12 am

Irons watched the debacle with an expression that was equal parts disgust and appraisal, and for a moment he genuinely wondered if the younger Donut brother was having some sort of seizure or allergic reaction. A medal for heroism would have looked nice on his desk; saving the life of a promising young detective, and one of the notorious Vice Squad to boot. Not directly, obviously - Christ, could you imagine what you'd catch giving emergency first aid to that sugar-dusted scarecrow? No, he'd have rallied the shocked team together and spearheaded the saving of Junior Detective Donut's life. At least, that's what anyone who wanted to keep their job would agree. Sadly, Trek seemed to be just fine; as much as that word could be applied to a dangerous public menace with a confectionery obsession. The Commander gave a disappointed grunt, lingering long enough to catch Rick's excitement over his little breakthrough, and departing as the Detective Captain decided to stick his tongue down the Ghoul's throat. Some sights you couldn't drink away.

Someone had obviously been setting up for a briefing before Irons had used his seniority to commandeer the room, and a folding lectern had been set up in front of the big screen that dominated one wall. The lectern had been stacked with meticulously prepared briefing notes - honestly, spectacular work by anyone's standards - which Irons used to fill the time until Rick's team came together by removing each page, reading it over, and then casually tossing it into a nearby trash can. Once he judged that most of them had turned up, Frank ditched the remainder of the printouts, jammed his fingers in his mouth and let out a piercing whistle that cut through whatever conversation there had been. Just because he could.

"Alright, listen up, faces. Today we've got something in common: I wish I was somewhere else, too. Now, Detective Captain Powers here was going to give us a case summary but, in the interests of not losing the will to live and giving him more time to sexually harass our morgue colleagues, we're just gonna skip to the part where we have a suspect. Now, Rick's going to give you all a run down on who exactly your suspect is and how you're going to apprehend them, process them and have the case file on my desk by --" He paused, checking his watch for effect. "--Hell, let's say Friday afternoon. I don't wanna waste my weekend on this. Before that, though, let's get two important things out of the way."

Irons turned, gesturing to where the two agents sat. "You're all aware by now that the FBI has sent us a couple of tagalongs for this case, proving once again that there's absolutely no task the Bureau can't impede when they put their minds to it. Agents -- what is it, Fox and Martini??" He held up a hand as they went to retort. "Really don't care. The agents are here to follow along, provide valuable, uh.. insight on the case, and boost the sale of pantsuits in LA, I guess. Treat them with the same respect you treat the rest of your colleagues." The Commander looked pointedly to where Trek was attempting to lick powdered sugar from his own necktie. "For the avoidance of doubt, though, Detective Captain Powers will be leading up this case, which means that you report to him, and he reports to me. Most of you are used to this system, but I realise, agents, that it might still be a little galling for you. So if you have any concerns, at all, I fully encourage you to not bring them to me. Seriously. Take up a drinking habit or something."

The Commander back to the others, sliding his hands into his pockets. "Last but not least is the, uh, tragic news that Detective Donut - the one not currently covered in jelly - will be taking a sabbatical. Apparently he's decided that law enforcement moves too slowly for his liking, and has decided to reinvent himself as some sort of vigilante to track down his sister's murderer. Everyone needs a hobby, right? Unfortunately, much as we'd all like to see you become an even greater detriment to the safety of yourself and others, you can't do it with departmental firearms. So turn in your badge and your gun." Irons waited patiently until the Detective had divested himself of his weapon and his mark of authority alongside a string of ominous mumbling, before pocketing both. Business concluded, the Commander stepped aside and gestured for Rick to take over, idly toying with Donut's badge and wondering whether he'd get anything worthwhile if he pawned it.
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Re: SUPER VICE SQUAD! (IC, M)

Post by Business Narwhal » Thu Jan 25, 2018 3:11 pm

“You’re probably tasting the disinfectant soap-“ Dr. Tusk wasn’t even sure why he was explaining himself to the man who had just kissed him. He managed to cut himself off before diving into the bit detailing the human remains that had been in his mouth that morning. He hated to admit to himself that the wild peck had made him feel something he had not felt in some time. Do I have to say something about this? No, of course not. Result of natural stimulus is all. Tusk gave Detective Powers a nod and smile.

A moment later, the crowd was charging past Tusk – an oversized man-doughnut barreling by created a space past the coroner through which a bunch of busybody police types squeezed through to take a seat. Tusk looked to Detective Powers for guidance, but Powers had filed into the room as well. Commander Irons whistled, and the rest of the room fell silent while he spoke. The seats had all been taken so Tusk sat cross-legged on a carpet that practically oozed old coffee.

Commander Irons finished speaking and Detective Powers moved to take over. Dr. Tusk stood up unexpectedly and eyes shifted his way. Whatever funny feelings he had had earlier had turned into a somewhat intense need to urinate. He wanted so badly to ask to go to the bathroom, but Powers waved him to the front.

At first, Tusk whispered just to Powers, “You need to sign-“ Powers blinked at Tusk, refusing to acknowledge the whisper.

Dr. Tusk ruffled the base of his scrub top and a bit of dust that must have stuck to him on the floor fell to the ground. The slight breeze of the motion made Tusk’s need to pee feel even more urgent than before. He took a deep breath. Just about everyone had started to stare at him.

“You need to...um…sign to confirm receipt…of the evidence photos. We…sorry, us at the morgue…well me really…I was able to tell it was the taco killer. There was a taco lodged in the victim’s throat, you see.” He winced as he pulled the relevant photo from Powers’ grasp and held it out, then rotating it toward each person in the room show-and-tell style. “And now we…well you all…have a suspect. I gather that’s what Detective Powers will be…explaining…right after he signs the photo release, please.”

Tusk’s knees buckled, and he crossed his legs as he leaned on the lectern at the front of the room. Sweat started to form wet bulbs on his bald forehead.

“I’m Dr. Lester Tusk, by the way. County Coroner.” He threw a polite wave to the collected crowd and then wiped his forehead, splashing the wall with enough dampness to leave spots. “Hi.”

He then held his hands out to Detective Powers in supplication but refused to make eye contact, hoping Powers would pass back the form that he had snatched with the photos.
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Re: SUPER VICE SQUAD! (IC, M)

Post by Palacia » Fri Jan 26, 2018 10:05 pm

The news wasn’t surprising nor was it particularly crushing to the steely Detective. He’d figured this would be the inevitable repercussion of the path he’d set himself upon. After all, he knew the city would provide for him. He had faith. And when ones’ faith is strong as his, few things could stop him. He rubbed his scraggly beard, playing to the grain..

“ The city provides and the city takes.. Your wife, chief. The City has whispered many things to me,” Duncan walked up to chief, unflinching, “ Chief. My badge. My Gun.” Roughly slapping the corresponding items onto the chiefs hands in emphasize. He slowly, fluidly, pulled out a pack of a Marlboro's. His right hand grabbing a white lighter and lit the cig. Inhaling slow-like, the embered tip glowing strongly in the moderately lit room, he inhaled enough to make his cheeks puff out slightly. Then, he exhaled making sure to empty his chest cavities content's into the Chiefs face. He turned, raised his right arm, pinching the cigarette with his index and thumb finger, held it for a second before releasing it. With that he walked out, grabbing his jacket and winking to his brother along the way.

He was putting on the best performance he could, for everything was going according to plan. The cities plan, empowered and enacted upon by its newly entitled guardian angel: The Holy Shadow.


*So begins the descent into the mind of madness; So rises the Angel; So falls the Angel* Left inscribed on the table, where the once-detective had sat.
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Re: SUPER VICE SQUAD! (IC, M)

Post by Rick » Wed Jan 31, 2018 11:38 am

Captain Detective Powers leaned his back against the office wall as Commander Irons spoke to the “officelings”, most were paying attention, which was enough for Rick. Later on he could yell at those that didn’t, his therapist had spoken to him of finding a way to deal with his anger and so far Rick had found this to be the best method. Especially when it looked like they were about to cry in the middle of a yelling session, those that didn’t usually moved up the hierarchy. Agents Trek and Duncan had gone through it; Duncan had looked bored through the whole ordeal and Trek, well, Trek found every noise or slight movement more interesting than Rick yelling at him. The boy was unbreakable. The Captain Detective was barely paying attention to Irons, his attention focused on the single individual who had decided to sit on the floor, crossed legged.

Rick wasn’t the supervisor sort, he knew he was made Captain Detective of Vice squad because he got results, but the blatant disrespect Dr. Tusk was showing him, in front of Irons, was too much. His reputation had taken years to cultivate, the Captain Detective’s slight anger issue kept Vice Squad in lock step, and the greater LAPD knew not to get in his way. That’s how he liked it, hell, Tusk didn’t even bother him that much but the poor bastard had chosen the worst possible time for...whatever it was that he was doing, right in front of Rick’s own people. Now he had to figure out a way to dress him down in front of the rest of the squad. Rick had to secure his throne.

That opportunity presented itself when Duncan Donuts turned in his badge. Rick had known it was coming and had planned a night at a local dive bar to send off his best Detective. He would be sure to invite the good doctor.

After Irons was done, Rick headed over to the podium, but was them promptly interrupted by none other than Dr. Tusk. What happened next left the Captain speechless. Tusk first tried to whisper something to Rick, but the Detective ignored him, this was not the time for a one on one session. Tusk, deciding whatever it was that he had to say was urgent enough to interrupt the Captain, began addressing those gathered in the conference room.
Business Narwhal wrote:
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“You need to...um…sign to confirm receipt…of the evidence photos. We…sorry, us at the morgue…well me really…I was able to tell it was the taco killer. There was a taco lodged in the victim’s throat, you see.” He winced as he pulled the relevant photo from Powers’ grasp and held it out, then rotating it toward each person in the room show-and-tell style. “And now we…well you all…have a suspect. I gather that’s what Detective Powers will be…explaining…right after he signs the photo release, please.”

Tusk’s knees buckled, and he crossed his legs as he leaned on the lectern at the front of the room. Sweat started to form wet bulbs on his bald forehead.

“I’m Dr. Lester Tusk, by the way. County Coroner.” He threw a polite wave to the collected crowd and then wiped his forehead, splashing the wall with enough dampness to leave spots. “Hi.”
Rick stared at Tusk with barely contained fury…and amusement. The Ghoul clearly had to take a piss, but that would have to wait.

“Thank you, Dr. Trunks, for your assistance in narrowing down a suspect, I don’t know where Vice Squad would be right now without your hail Mary….you know what, every one stand up,” the whole room groaned,” I said stand up! Okay, now let’s give the Dr. here a big round of applause for doing his job!...louder….louder!” Everyone in the room was clapping and staring at Tusk, most with a look of annoyance.

Rick pulled out the form Tusk wanted signed so badly and neatly folded it, placing it inside the breast pocket of his blazer.

“So, we have a suspect, a latino male, early twenties, tall fucker, about 6’4” with a giant tattoo on his chest of a skull with an anchor in its mouth,” Rick took off his aviators and gave the room a very intense look,” did you all hear my description? I don’t want a repeat of last time when we went after the Compton terror, were every single black guy on the street was arrested and brought in, leave that racial profiling shit for the pigs in LAPD,” Rick put his shades back on just as Trek shot his hand up.

“What, Trek?”

“Aren’t we pigs?”

“Are any of you pigs?!”

“Sir, no sir!”

“What are we?”

“Vice squad, sir!”

“God damn right! Anyway, since I’m the only who actually got a look at the fucker, I’ll be doing surveillance at Santa Monica, for now just keep an eye out for that tattoo……that takes care of regular business,” Rick checked his watch,” You know what, that takes care of that, let’s go to Pato’s bar for Duncan’s good bye party,” Rick then turned to Tusk,” I’ll sign your form after the party,” Rick then gave double finger guns to the office and walked out.

“Trek, go get your car, you’re driving me.”
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Re: SUPER VICE SQUAD! (IC, M)

Post by Palacia » Wed Jan 31, 2018 3:36 pm

Duncan drove towards his apartment, his pace dictated by the standard traffic in front of him. He held no desire to pursue further speed in this hour, preferring the ease of a dictated speed. His mind lost in a cascade of thoughts, his own thoughts, some frightened to no longer be a detective, realizing that for the first time he’ll be away from his brother, some were of anger, but most of all they all held fragments focused on one name: Powder.

* Do not worry my dear, little Shadow. I am here and I will never leave you, as long as you never leave me.* The voice, neither female nor male dominated, although it did seem a bit more feminine than male to Duncan, but perhaps that was because he was male. Yet it imparted such meaning onto Duncan, his inner-calamity slowly resolving itself.

“Really?” A simple question, yet it held anxiety and fear.

* Yes*

Relief blossomed from within. The Shadow arrived at his middle-class apartment, spacious enough for them, but surely some folk would complain. He took a seat in his favorite chair, ashtray nearby, a pack of opened Marlboro resting against the ashtray. Several burnt out cigarette butts were piled into the tray. He sat for but a moment before standing abruptly. His arms lax, swaying with his upper torso movement, he reached down, grabbed the ashtray and headed for his trash can. He now realized just how much he hated this place, it had never dawned on him before, but now, with the guiding light of the city he could finally see. This place was unhealthy, unsanitary, untrue to the city, but it was home. He knew he couldn’t move away until he secured a source of income, so for now he would abstain in this filth.

His phone buzzed from within the bowels of his trench coat. He reached within and pulled it out, it’s light one of the few sources illuminating the shadowy room. He stared at the name registered on the caller ID: “Powder”

He answered, “Who is this.” He growled.

“Help me!” It was the plea of a woman likely in her 20s, near the same age Powder would be. He knew it, deep down, that it was her. He knew that voice, however much it had matured since her death… no, her disappearance. Her voice broke away from the phone and was replaced by another, a deeper voice, familiar. “ Oh look, another donut to the fryer.”

“Whoever you are, and wherever you are, I will hunt you down, and I will personally see to your purification, as degreed by holy spirit of the city.”

Before the phone clicked dead, the Shadow heard one final remark, distant, but still audible… “ What the fuck was that?”
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Re: SUPER VICE SQUAD! (IC, M)

Post by wadjet » Thu Feb 01, 2018 11:53 am

Pato’s was, well…. It was a bar. It was definitely that. There was a big sign proclaiming that they had an alcoholic beverage license taped to the dirty piece of glass that might have once functioned as a window. It was charmingly tagged with a lovingly rendered explicative, right next to the three steps down to the door. Well. Two and a half. The light above the door buzzed, flickering occasionally, and probably needed to be replaced. a little string of flags hung above the entryway, each one a different shade of bleached.

The door stuck a little, and needed a slight shove before opening, protesting the treatment with a loud creaking sound. Once entering, you’d need to wait a bit for your eyes to adjust, no matter how late at night, but eventually you could make out the bar itself, and the surly guerrilla serving drinks behind it. The stools were all of different styles and states of repair, at least one having a mismatched leg taped to it. The booths were… Well the less said about them, the better.

The place was already decked out for the party, sort of, with an interesting mix of kids birthday supplies. A baseball banner hung from the ceiling, with ‘Happy Birthday Sport!’ printed on it. Someone had crossed off ‘birthday’, however, and scribbled ‘BYe-BYE’ in its place. On the bar itself sat a few pink party hats for anyone to wear, all with a variety of cartoon ponies prancing around on them.

Holly honestly had no idea why she was expected anything different, or even why she was there.
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Re: SUPER VICE SQUAD! (IC, M)

Post by Georgeanna » Thu Feb 01, 2018 5:39 pm

The steering wheel slid beneath Basil’s hands as she pulled up to Pato’s. When Rick had demanded she plan this party, Basil had had every intention of getting an early start on things and really do it up right—venue, drinks, socialite guests, decorations, and entertainment. All charged to the station of course and subsidized by her Crocs deal. But after several late nights, the idea simply fled from her mind. What? She was a busy person. So last night, she had called to reserve a place at her old haunt and to no one’s surprise, Pato’s jumped at the chance to have such a large party of patrons.

A few shots of tequila later that night, she and her neighbor had modified all the decorations appropriately, and all said and done, Basil thought it would look good. Rolling her eyes imagining the critiques she was bound to receive, she climbed out of her car, pulling her dress down slightly and taking a quick selfie by her car. Never a bad time to self-promote. Who knows? Maybe some of her cool followers would show up and this party wouldn’t be such a drag.

Stumbling across the gravel of the parking lot, Basil realized she wasn’t even quite sure she was invited to be here. Screw it. She fixed the damn banner completely drunk, and it didn’t even look that bad. Okay, no. But at least it was up. Today deserved a win.

Throwing a wink to the bartender, and strutting inside, the décor looked even worse than she remembered. Normally, she would’ve taken a quick Snap of it, but this was beyond repair. Flushing significantly, she sauntered over to the table and collapsed in a heap, her hat falling to the floor, making her hair stand up like a tuft of bird feathers. As she put her face in her hands, the barman came over with her usual.

“Thanks, Gary,” she muttered into her palms. Tonight was bound to be all types of hell—not to mention that they were saying goodbye to a good detective for now.

As she sat there, a single patch of hair wadded up into a fin of sorts, Basil texted her neighbor, “Bitch, I swear to gawd. i get killed for this shit banner, i’m taking you down with me.”
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Re: SUPER VICE SQUAD! (IC, M)

Post by Business Narwhal » Sat Feb 10, 2018 7:33 pm

“Hnnnnngggh…” Lester Tusk stood at a urinal with an arm braced against the tiled wall. The applause of the meeting had practically surged through his aching body. And then the Captain had continued with his speech as Lester winced in restrained agony, barely hanging onto control of his basest needs. As soon as the party had been announced and they were all quickly dismissed, Lester had managed to gracelessly tiptoe to the nearest men’s room. But a bevy of machismo cops seemed to be in a continuous rotation at the only other urinal, directly beside him. Each one seemed entirely comfortable sizing Lester up. Each one of them deposited their pungent, coffee-dehydrated pee and left. And each time, just before the door swung shut again, another cop seemed to file in. Despite the increasing emergency of his situation, Lester’s stage fright refused to subside. Sweat had soaked through his clothes all over but that situation almost went from bad to worse when finally, his salvation came.

Or at least as close to salvation as he’d find at the police headquarters. A rotund juggernaut of an officer abruptly burst out of the restroom’s only stall. The man appeared more Jabba the Hutt than human as he wrestled with cartoonishly thin suspenders that barely held his sloppy uniform over him. Lester had no time to ponder the man’s qualifications for duty as they passed each other. He did however have time to struggle with the man’s apparent inability to flush. Lester was familiar with the fouler aspects of the human body, but the dead were far more easily forgiven than the living. Lester attempted to flush but the toilet was a lost cause. Nonetheless, the privacy of the stall was enough to end his longstanding suffering. As he washed his hands thereafter, he wished he could wash his hands of the cops for the day, but he was trapped in a bureaucratic nightmare.

***

By the time he got home, he already needed to be back out the door. His dog Britney had already whizzed on the floor so that didn’t matter. He gave her some kibble knowing full well he would return home to an accompanying doody. The car would charge up just enough to get to the bar and back while he took a shower and changed into something bland, business casual. He strained through another pee and captured a bit of it in a specimen container he had brought in from the car. The bathroom light reflected off his bald head as he looked at himself in the mirror while washing his hands. “You are going to give Detective Powers a lesson on professional courtesy.” Even in his own head, Lester’s voice was timid.

***

“You are now arriving at your destination.” The cheery, female voice of his GPS lied, again. He had circled the block a third time and come back to the same unoccupied lot. He rolled down his window to take a closer look, as if the light of the early California evening was playing tricks on his vision. Almost immediately, a scraggly looking man in ripped up camo shorts, a tank top, and wearing no shoes, walked right up to the window and greeted him with a ‘hang loose’ hand gesture. Lester said nothing.

“Yo dude, you lookin’ kinda uppity for a crackhead?” The shoeless man was now armpit hair deep into Lester’s driver side window.

“What? No. I’m just lost-“

The shoeless man backed off dramatically and stroked his unkempt goatee before laughing. “I know you ain’t no crackhead, man. You’re a dirty cop, no? Looking for Pato’s?”

“Cop. Me? No… Pato’s, that’s right though. My GPS says-“

“Forget that piece-o-shit, man. I gotchu. See, this was old Pato’s. That’s why your girl’s got you all twisted. This place is all cleared out now ‘cause of the fire." The shoeless man pointed and Lester's eyes followed, but neither of them knew what they were looking at. "You lookin’ for new Pato’s. Go up two blocks and take a right. They don’t let places like that pop up too far from they nasty ass roots.”

“Hm…can’t say I’m looking forward to finding it, but thanks. Do you know if there are any charging stations around here? Think all the driving around looking for the place probably drained more than I expected.”

“I don’t know nothing about that, man. But let me tell you, you could get you something to charge you up in that bathroom over at new Pato’s. Even some of them pigs get their noses dirty, you feel me? If you can suck a mean dick, you could probably even get a little taste for free. Not that I know, you know what I’m saying?” The shoeless man winked at Lester then laughed harder than before, revealing several spaces where his teeth ought to have been.

“What? I ought to go. Already late and that.” Lester rolled his window up. The shoeless man looked far less friendly in his rear-view mirror. Lester accelerated in reverse and then made his way to the gravel parking lot of ‘new’ Pato’s. The place certainly didn’t look new, but at least the shoeless man’s directions had gotten him there. He grabbed the specimen container from a cupholder and marched to the bar door. The door stuck on his way in and he bobbled the cup, which fell to the ground but did not explode. He scooped it up anxiously and hurried to the bar to take the nearest empty stool.

Lester held the specimen cup up to the light. The bartender was about to take Lester’s order when he saw the yellow liquid being raised up. “The fuck you doing?”

“It’s my urine. I know I’m seeing particulates. I’m telling you, I’ve got a urinary tract infection. Can’t treat people-“ An older regular sitting nearest Lester at the bar put his hand over his drink and slid a couple stools farther away. The bartender had moved closer and the blood vessels on the man's forehead told Lester he had been about a sentence away from being battered. “Sorry.” Lester pocketed the cup for the moment and looked around. He recognized a couple of faces already there that had been in the meeting. “Where is Detective Powers? Excuse my language, but that guy flipping cheeses me off.”
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Re: SUPER VICE SQUAD! (IC, M)

Post by nubite » Fri Feb 16, 2018 1:33 pm

"Listen DeWitt, I don't make the rules. I just get to enforce them. This transfer authorization comes from so high up the chain it makes my head spin. You have been assigned to the Super Vice Squad, and there's nothing I can do about it. Look, you're a damned good detective and these guys are supposed to be something akin to a special ops unit."

Booker sighed and closed his eyes wearily. LA wasn't far away, though he disliked the idea of having to navigate through rush hour every day. By the way the Captain was talking, Booker wasn't getting much in the way of a choice.

"Very well." Booker finally said as he opened his eyes. "When and where am I supposed to report in?"

"Take the rest of the day off, DeWitt. Maybe take that daughter of yours out to dinner. Tomorrow morning is fine for reporting in. As for where, my understanding is that Super Vice is headquartered in LAPD itself so go there. You'll report to a Captain Rick Powers. Got it?"

"Understood," Booker replied shortly.

"Excellent. You are dismissed. You may take your stuff from your desk."

Booker turned and left the office. He stopped briefly to gather the meager personal belongings that had accumulated there. He gathered a coffee mug that said 'Best Dad Ever!' on it and a small framed picture of him and his daughter together. Booker then left his local police department and headed to his car.

- - - - - - - - -

Later that evening, Booker and Anna were eating at a local restaurant. It wasn't anything fancy, Booker didn't really do fancy and being a single father on a detective's income doesn't allow for much in terms of fancy. At dinner, Booker told Anna of his transfer. Anna patiently listened and nodded along.

"Dad," Anna said once Booker was done. "It sounds like a good opportunity. Just don't get yourself killed, all right?"

"Fine," Booker agreed solemnly.

Soon, dinner was done and the two went home and to bed. In the morning, Booker left for LA and the Super Vice Squad.

- - - - - - - - -

It was somewhere in the neighborhood of five in the morning when Booker was woken up by his alarm. He jump-started his brain with his morning smoke and his morning cup of a combination of whiskey and coffee. After a quick shower and shave, Booker got dressed and headed out the door. Booker got into his black Mustang and drove toward LA. Booker made it to the precinct fairly early, around six thirty or so. Knowing he was early, Booker allowed himself a quick cigarette and then leisurely wandered the precinct, once it opened. An hour or so later, Booker found the door to Captain Power's and leaned against a nearby wall to wait patiently.
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Re: SUPER VICE SQUAD! (IC, M)

Post by Trekwars » Sun Feb 25, 2018 4:12 pm

After about an hour and a half after leaving HQ, the red slug bug finally pulls into the parking lot of Pato's. The drive typically should have only taken about 20 minutes or so, but you must remember that this was Trek driving. After receiving the devastating news that his brother will no longer be serving alongside him, he was stunned. What followed was an awkward car ride as Trek, with Rick as his witness, experienced the 5 stages of grief in the span of an hour and a half. All the while Trek drove across the city stopping at every possible donut shop he could. Rick, however, was silently contemplating the idea of simply jumping out of the car just to get away from this awkward situation.

Finally, after pulling into an empty parking space, the two would begin walking towards the doors of Pato's. As they walked, Trek's vision would be blocked by a considerably large pile of donut boxes he picked up on their way here. Once inside Trek would drop the donuts on the nearest table and take a seat, beginning to stuff his face with about 6 donuts at a time. With his mouth full and the thought of Palf out of his, mind Trek leans back in his chair and glances out the window relaxing.
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Thanks to Forge for the Signature text, Wad for the Avatar, and Georgie for the creative idea.

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Re: SUPER VICE SQUAD! (IC, M)

Post by Rick » Sat Mar 03, 2018 6:18 am

Captain Detective Powers was in the midst of a fantastic high, unable to be furious at Trek for wasting so much of his valuable time collecting donuts from every B rated, grimy donut shop on the way to Pato’s, instead he spent the ride eating Trek’s donuts and sending a long list of women on his phones questions about what they were doing tonight, even a couple married ones. By the time they arrived at Pato’s the place was packed with members of Vice squad, a few LAPD’s officers that knew Pip, friends, friends of friends, and even a few of the married women Powers had texted…. but with their husbands. Powers growled and made his way to the bar where Basil was busy trying to get the perfect photo of a glass of whisky.

“Aren’t you too young to drink?” Powers reached for the glass and downed it in one gulp, smacking the glass hard on the bar counter.

“I was using that!” Basil called out, utterly in shock of Powers total disregard for her very, very important Instagram work.

“You spend too much time on that fucking phone of yours, Cilantro, live a little, you are in a bar full of cops, go nuts,” Powers called the bartender, an old, thick, mean looking Caucasian woman with a face that appeared to be carved from stone and planted a wad of cash on the bar,” Gretchen, a round of shots for the whole fucking place!”

Rick had yelled that last part out to make sure everyone heard, followed by the deafening cheers of dozens of cops.

“This barely covers half, Rick!” Gretchen said in that deep, gravelly voice of hers.

“You want me to go come back next Monday and inspect what goes on in that basement of yours?”

Gretchen gave Rick a dirty look and began pulling bottles of tequila from under the bar, Rick taking a whole bottle for himself. After this point, when internal investigators and local news networks asked what happened, Rick said he couldn’t remember. Sometime around nine p.m. the party at Pato’s could not be contained to the bar alone. It spilled out into the streets, with the local hipsters and bums of Los Angeles joining into what they assumed was some sort of sponsored event. Dozens of kegs made their way outside and as the night went on it kept getting bigger and bigger. Cops were called, barriers were placed, lines were formed. Just when things were settling down, Trek climbed atop a lexus, his eyes shot from a donut sugar high, and declared the large mob needed to raid the donut shop nearby because “fuck the police!”

At this point the front line of police officers trying to keep the mob under control started firing bean bags into the crowd, followed by tear gas that some of the bums and drunks picked up and threw back at the police. One crazed bastard tried to inhale the damn stuff and was last seen walking into a SWAT van and taking off. Basil documented the whole thing from a situation tent she had commandeered, taking selfies and filtered shots of what would come to be known as one of LAPD’s most shameful failures. Tusk, in a moment of confusion made his way to the front of the mob, trying to talk the frenzied crowd down, but LAPD took this as him being the ring leader. He was quickly arrested, beaten, and shoved into the back of a meat wagon. In the coming months Tusk would be held in prison, tried, and sentenced to ten years behind bars. While serving his sentence Tusk grew and flourished in the prison system, eventually becoming the Grand Knight, highest leader of the White Brotherhood prison gang.

Thanks to Basil’s continuous Instagram stream of the riot, people from all across Los Angeles arrived at the scene, eventually becoming too big for the police to contain. The crowd marched with purpose through downtown, breaking into stores and restaurants. Irons manipulating the crowd into breaking into a Best Buy, stealing a new laptop and camera before making his exit and disappearing into the night. Throughout most of the night Rick had stuck with both FBI agents, trying to keep them from blaming his squad for any of this mess. Once the crowd had broken through police lines Rick had called it a night and took Trek’s bug back to Vice Squad headquarters. The night had been a raging success, a proper send off to one of Vice Squad’s best, now all that was left was to take a shower, drink one last glass of scotch and then pass out on his desk.
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