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You're Detective Dick Decker, an 18-year veteran
of the inner city police force. You've become jaded because of the
slime you're forced to deal with every damn day of your miserable existence.
You're tired of all the sleazy whores, the bad coffee, and those friggin' powdered-sugar
donuts. Well... maybe not the sleazy whores part... but, yeah...
they can keep all that other shit. Besides, you're taking early retirement.
But, the problem is... while those guys in Vice can live out their days on an island in the Keys with all the easy money they've scammed from drug dealers, you've been assigned to trace unpaid parking tickets issued to homeless people. Where's there any cop benefits in that?
Before leaving for the night, you pause to gaze out of the open window by your desk and ponder your uneventful life. Suddenly, you hear shouting... and then, gun shots coming from outside. Leaning out of the window, you look down several floors and see a man rushing from the infamous building across the alley... THE NO-TELL MOTEL.
The man is being followed by two more men who seem to be chasing him. Out of the corner of your eye, you see movement in one of the windows -- but which one? Opening your desk drawer, you fish under papers and broken pencils until you finally come out with an old zoom-lens camera -- and for just a moment, you wonder if there's any film in it.
You reach inside your cheap suitcoat and draw your body-stopping .45 semi-automatic from it's shoulder holster and chamber a hollow-point round. This calls for a closer look. Once outside, a uniformed officer tells you they caught the two men who were chasing the other. Something about money missing... a lot of it.
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