leslie(nova scotia)
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- Sep 22, 2006
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Case file no# 15-8-11
Their in your neighbourhood, parks, playing fields and even your own back yard! They hide everywhere and it is my job to apprehend them. They were the disease and I am the cure.
It was a day. A day just like any other in the metropolis of Lower Sackville. The Big Brass had laid it on my boss who in turn dumped it on me. You all know what runs down hill. Stats for the month were down and quota for the unit and not been met.
Being a member of the elite C.R.U. (Clad Recovery Unit and not to be confused with the Russian G.R.U.) was not all it was cracked up to be. Word on the street was that a gang of fugitive clad was staking out a local playing field. This was collaborated by my C.I. (confidential informant) Whack Job. Was hoping the intel was fresh and righteous. Loaded my weapon of choice the F3P (freedoom 3 plus) with three fresh 9v copper tops ,hopped into Nogo and hit the street.
Logging in my arrival with dispatch I cautiously hit the field that looked like a war zone. Broken bottles, garbage and other debris covered the field. The clad gang without a doubt had been there and still may be. First thing I observed was the Batman belly up in the field. Guess this action was too much for the super hero. He was beyond the help of mortal man so I called in the meat wagon.
The F3P began to spout bell tone after bell tone as the dragnet was thrown. Most of the clad surrendered without a fight. Their true character coming to light....just a bunch of low level street soldiers. I was after the bosses. Got my wish as two Italian "ring" leaders were scooped up along with a Mexican Cartel under boss. 925ers to the bitter end. Out of the same mold.
Suddenly there was a tug at my pant leg and a yelp. A low weak one at that. A mobile manure maker the size of a ballpark frank. Life on the street and what you see when you don't have any mustard and relish. It was on a lease and the owner asked what I was doing. (He actually asked if I was having any luck.) I badged him and told him to move away as the scene was not secured yet.
Quota was had. Back at the precinct boss Honey Bunny was pleased with the capture of the ring leaders. So pleased in fact that this agent was sent to the kitchen to do the dishes. Sometimes being in the C.R.U. can suck!
Stats...quota $7.45, Mexican coin,2 925 "O's",Batman, police id, pendent and dish pan hands!
Their in your neighbourhood, parks, playing fields and even your own back yard! They hide everywhere and it is my job to apprehend them. They were the disease and I am the cure.
It was a day. A day just like any other in the metropolis of Lower Sackville. The Big Brass had laid it on my boss who in turn dumped it on me. You all know what runs down hill. Stats for the month were down and quota for the unit and not been met.
Being a member of the elite C.R.U. (Clad Recovery Unit and not to be confused with the Russian G.R.U.) was not all it was cracked up to be. Word on the street was that a gang of fugitive clad was staking out a local playing field. This was collaborated by my C.I. (confidential informant) Whack Job. Was hoping the intel was fresh and righteous. Loaded my weapon of choice the F3P (freedoom 3 plus) with three fresh 9v copper tops ,hopped into Nogo and hit the street.
Logging in my arrival with dispatch I cautiously hit the field that looked like a war zone. Broken bottles, garbage and other debris covered the field. The clad gang without a doubt had been there and still may be. First thing I observed was the Batman belly up in the field. Guess this action was too much for the super hero. He was beyond the help of mortal man so I called in the meat wagon.
The F3P began to spout bell tone after bell tone as the dragnet was thrown. Most of the clad surrendered without a fight. Their true character coming to light....just a bunch of low level street soldiers. I was after the bosses. Got my wish as two Italian "ring" leaders were scooped up along with a Mexican Cartel under boss. 925ers to the bitter end. Out of the same mold.
Suddenly there was a tug at my pant leg and a yelp. A low weak one at that. A mobile manure maker the size of a ballpark frank. Life on the street and what you see when you don't have any mustard and relish. It was on a lease and the owner asked what I was doing. (He actually asked if I was having any luck.) I badged him and told him to move away as the scene was not secured yet.
Quota was had. Back at the precinct boss Honey Bunny was pleased with the capture of the ring leaders. So pleased in fact that this agent was sent to the kitchen to do the dishes. Sometimes being in the C.R.U. can suck!
Stats...quota $7.45, Mexican coin,2 925 "O's",Batman, police id, pendent and dish pan hands!
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