Jul 1, 2022 2:35:43 GMT -5
Post by shazam on Jul 1, 2022 2:35:43 GMT -5
NORTH CITY BLUES *Hard*
A seemingly alarming number of police officers within the North City PD have become corrupt and like to steal evidence and money from crime scenes. Some, have even come across Ki Blasters and the power has gone to their head. Someone has to be leading them, you have been tasked with taking out these 'wannabe' officers and finding and taking out the leader, by arrest or by death. The choice is yours...
Rewards: ↓
Stat Reward: Zeni Reward:
+ 25% PL gains + 25% ƶ gains
Extra Info: ↓
* N/A
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* Required: At least 2,100 words
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Staff Officer Shazam was sitting at his desk. A stack of unfinished paperwork loomed over him, the shadow casting a reminder that the Red Ribbon Army saw him as nothing but a pencil-pusher in quiet times like these. Part of him missed the days when he was first recruited, back when all he had to worry about was showing up to training and making his commanding officers happy. Now he was the officer, and he bore all the responsibility his position entailed.
He was writing through a food safety form when he decided to take a break. Shazam slid one of his desk drawers open and threw his little golden pen inside, then closed it. The officer stood up and stretched his legs, he’d been sitting in the same spot for hours. He wore a white dress shirt with suspenders attached to black dress pants. Expensive black shoes adorned his feet.
Shazam took a quick glance over his office… Just in case. There was a single door on the opposite end from his desk that led to the rest of the Red Ribbon Army headquarters. A special noise-dampening red carpet decorated the hardwood floor of the office. The walls were completely covered in filled bookshelves from floor to ceiling. Non-fiction only.
His mahogany desk always had his trusty full-sized double-action revolver sitting on the right side. Shazam’s office had been infiltrated a couple of times since he was given his rank of Staff Officer, so it wasn’t a bad idea to stay strapped at all times. A rotary phone sat on the opposite side of the desk, always ready to ring at the most inconvenient of-
RING-RING-RING-RING-RING
Shazam’s phone began to ring loudly as he was in mid-stretch. “Dammit,” he said under his breath before he sat down on his leather chair and picked the phone up. The Red Ribbon Army was incredibly secretive with their phone calls, each phone was protected by the latest anti-eavesdropping device that the egg-heads at R&D could come up with. This was especially important for Shazam, who was the leader of the Espionage Department at headquarters.
“Hello, Staff Officer Shazam speaking.”
An elderly voice croaked through the line, “Shazam! I have an assignment for you.”
“Yes?” Shazam said with bated breath, his legs about ready to cramp up from his interrupted stretching.
“Listen to me very carefully, and do not write any of this down. You are the only person I am telling this to, Shazam. This is between me and you, not even the other higher-ups are aware,” the old man warned.
Shazam’s eyes narrowed as he held the black phone up to his ear, “Go on.”
“I assume you are very well aware that we have been paying off the North City Police Department for a while now. The operation has allowed us to work in North City without government interference. We have an… Interesting issue. For whatever reason, the police have gone rogue. Stealing money, robbing civilians in the guise of pat-downs, sabotaging evidence to cover their own asses…”
“I’ve heard,” Shazam interrupted.
The officer could feel his boss smiling on the other end of the call, “Ah, I knew I could count on you. As informed as always, that’s why I promoted you to staff officer of the Espionage Department. Anyway, normally we wouldn’t care, but this has been a rampant enough problem that the higher authorities could very well launch an investigation into the matter. This means our little bribery operation with the North City police would be compromised,” the boss explained.
“How can I fix the issue?” Shazam inquired.
The boss cleared his throat, “There are three police officers you must eliminate. Each one is a high-ranking and influential member of the North City PD. They have promoted the rampant corruption that plagues their organization. Your targets are Chief Gorma, Sergeant Jamba, and Corporal Creol.”
Shazam hesitated before speaking. Assassination wasn’t a job he enjoyed, but he was no stranger to the task. “How would you prefer I deal with them?” he asked.
The boss spoke, “You need to eliminate all three on the same day, and you need to make it obvious that they were assassinated. This is because we have to send a message to the North City Police Department. They have to know that someone will hunt them down if they continue to harass civilians.”
Officer Shazam’s mouth formed into a smirk, “Strangely noble, boss.”
The boss let out a sinister chuckle, then returned to his serious tone of voice. “I know, I know, but you know how it goes. Anyway, I expect you to begin your work tomorrow. I have high expectations, Shazam. Don’t disappoint me.”
The line ended and Shazam hung the phone back into its carriage and exhaled. When he wished for more action, he didn’t mean killing three people on the same day.
Shazam stood up and finished stretching his legs, then walked over to one of his bookshelves. He took out a book, then reached into the shelf and flipped a switch. The bookshelf shuddered, then slowly slid down to reveal an arsenal.
He waltzed inside and looked around. The room stretched about twenty meters back and was all white with various black metal shelves, hooks, and other adornments that held the vast array of firearms and gadgets that belonged to Shazam. Most of it was supplied by the Red Ribbon Army, but some was paid for by the staff officer out of pocket. He took his job seriously, after all.
Shazam picked out a few items from the arsenal and noted to put them in the trunk of his car tomorrow morning. He had a long day ahead of him.
THE LONG DAY -
Staff Officer Shazam drove down a busy road in downtown North City. His car had incredibly dark-tinted bulletproof windows, dark enough to where there wasn’t even a silhouette behind them. Strong metal plates sat behind the sleek black finish of the vehicle. It was a 1957 Plymouth Fury that he personally bought with his first few checks after being promoted.
Assassination was always his least favorite job. It was often messy, difficult, and arguably the most morally ambiguous part of his job description. He looked up into the morning sky and pondered his situation briefly, then quickly resolved to see through with the task.
Shazam quickly waved a hand over his car’s advanced dashboard and navigated to the file on Corporal Creol, his first target. The blue glow of the user interface lit up the interior.
“Best to start with the underlings,” he muttered. If he targeted the chief first, it was a real possibility that it would alert everyone in the North City Police Department within minutes. No, it was better to work his way up.
Shazam scanned through Corporal Creol’s records. He was 34 years old, had a drinking problem, and liked to harass women. The Red Ribbon officer began to feel a lot less guilty about what he was going to do as he read through Creol’s rather awful background.
As he searched for anything that would aid his operation, a line in the document caught Shazam’s eye. “... likes to bully women into eating out with him at Oodon’s Noodles, his favorite restaurant. He spends many hours of his shift there. He always orders the special Teriyaki Oodon Special with a side of red wine and fortune cookies.”
Officer Shazam smirked, then navigated over to the GPS screen and plotted a route to Oodon’s Noodles.
Eventually, he found the restaurant. It was a decent place, nothing special, but not run down by any means. Luckily, a police vehicle sat on the opposite side of the road. “Must be Creol,” he thought. Shazam parked his car on the side of the road, then walked into the alleyway next to Oodon’s Noodles. The way to the back was blocked off by some sort of gate, and a guard was standing in front of it.
“Stop,” the guard said. “You shouldn’t be here, this is private property.”
Shazam reached into his pocket and took out a fake chef’s license. “I was just hired, I’m the new cook.”
The guard took the license and analyzed it closely. “Hm, seems legitimate, but they usually tell me whenever they hire someone new.”
“I can assure you that I’m one of the best noodle chefs in North City. Our boss would be very angry if he didn’t have me in the kitchen today,” Shazam explained, lying through his teeth. “Do you really want to make him mad?”
The guard sighed, “Fine, you don’t look dangerous or anything. Weird outfit you got on there, but maybe you’re just being overly formal for your first day. I understand…” He opened the gate and let Shazam through.
As the guard closed the gate, Shazam made his way to the back door entrance to Oodon’s Noodles. He pocketed his fake I.D., it was actually a customizable holographic card that could accurately mimic hundreds of types of official identification.
Shazam reached for the doorknob, then hesitated. He had no disguise, it was unlikely that the fake I.D. would fool the actual restaurant staff. The officer took a different approach and hid behind a nearby dumpster, patiently lying in wait like a predator in the ambush.
The back door slowly opened and a man of average height wearing a chef’s uniform stepped out of the building. It was clear that he was on break, he lifted his big white chef’s hat and pulled out some sort of adult book. He leaned against the restaurant and began reading.
Staff Officer Shazam’s body and clothing shifted patterns until they matched the surrounding alleyway. It was a power that Shazam was gifted with from birth, he wasn’t quite sure how he attained it. His chameleon invisibility was greatly treasured by the Red Ribbon Army and likely one of the biggest reasons he was chosen to be in his position.
The chef was lost in his book as Shazam slowly approached. The officer pulled out a handkerchief with special sleep chemicals sprayed on it beforehand. He lunged at the chef, covering his face with the rag in one hand and choking him out with the other. The chef struggled for a moment, then fell unconscious. Shazam gently placed him on the steps below the back door, making sure that no noise was made that could alert the people inside. He stripped the chef, then donned his uniform. It wasn’t a perfect fit, but it would do.
Shazam carefully dragged the unconscious chef behind the dumpster. Thankfully, they didn’t look horribly different from each other. Both had blond hair, though Shazam was notably more muscular and handsome. The officer took the chef’s real I.D. just in case. He stood up and looked around for any witnesses, then opened the back door to Oodon’s Noodles. A blast of sound hit Shazam like a truck and overflowed his senses. A nearby employee pushed a cart full of plates and without looking at the disguised officer said, “Back from your lunch break already, Cayan?”
“Yes,” Shazam said before following the employee to see where he would go.
“You sound a little different. Is that book getting to you? Anyway, there’s a few orders in the kitchen that are waiting on the other chef, but he’s been too busy with the rest of the orders to do them,” the employee explained. “Can you get to those real quick?”
“I’ll do them,” Shazam answered plainly. The disguised officer swiveled his head to find the order list. In the middle of the kitchen wall was a small window that contained a wire with a number of pieces of paper on them with various orders written down. Presumably, waiters and waitresses on the other side would place them there once they wrote down a customer’s order. That was the key to his goal.
Shazam quickly strolled over to the orders, making sure to tilt his head down and keep his chef hat low to prevent anyone from catching on. He passed a couple of cooks that gave him a brief quizzical glance. Thankfully, they were too busy with their own orders to sniff him out. He reached the list and took a quick peek at each one. There were three hanging on the wire.
The first order was for an extra spicy curry bowl with sauteed onions and poultry. Shazam shook his head, “Not that one.” The second was for…
“Eggnog stew?” he rubbed his eyes to make sure he was reading that correctly. “Eggnog stew with a side of sake. Moving on…” Finally, he checked the third order. His eyes lit up, “... Teriyaki Oodon Special with a side of red wine.” An additional note was hastily scribbled on the bottom by the waiter, “It’s the creepy cop. Don’t screw it up.”
Shazam made sure no one was looking, then switched the cop’s order to the first in line and shifted the others further to the right. That way no one would get onto him for starting with the cop’s order first. Besides, he could just say that he prioritized him because of his authority. The disguised chef turned around and headed deeper into the kitchen. He had some experience with cooking for himself, but nothing like a restaurant.
The manager eyed Shazam from afar as the Red Ribbon spy checked through various cabinets and containers for the teriyaki noodles. Shazam noticed the manager in the corner of his eye and decided to look busy by telling one of the nearby chefs to work on the cop’s order. “I heard he’s in a bad mood,” Shazam said to the cook. “You just finished an order, probably best to start with this one huh?”
The chef stood still for just a moment, then processed what Shazam just said. “You’re right, why don’t you help me out? That way we can get it done faster.”
A bead of sweat dropped down Shazam’s cool, collected face, “No problem. Say, I uh… I’m feeling a bit under the weather today. Can you remind me where we keep the teriyaki Oodon noodles?”
The chef pointed at a walk-in freezer with a large metal door and began gathering the utensils without saying a word. “Right,” Shazam said before heading over to the freezer. He quickly opened the door and then closed it shut behind him. Shazam exhaled, then checked his surroundings.
It was cold, obviously. Chops of salted meat laid on sterilized metallic surfaces at chest height. Vegetables and the like were organized at the very top shelf of the freezer.
Shazam breathed a sigh of relief when he opened a box and found various noodle packets loosely laid on top of each other. Thanks to his keen eyes, he was able to pick out the specific Teriyaki Oodon Special bag. He opened the door to the freezer, then exited and slammed it shut on his way out. Chef Shazam held out the packet for his coworker, “Here you go.”
“Oh, I thought you- You know what, let’s just do this. Give me that packet. You took a lot longer than normal, but there’s no time for that,” the chef said, slightly irritated at his coworker’s sudden lack of competence.
After a while of cooking and Shazam clumsily aiding the chef by finding utensils and ingredients, the dish was almost done.
“Alright, Torbo,” the chef began. “One more thing. Can you get the paprika out of the freezer? I’ll sprinkle that on here and then we’ll be done.”
The disguised staff officer nodded and said, “No problem.” He ran to the freezer, thankfully he knew exactly where the paprika was due to his last adventure. Suddenly, he realized this was the very last chance to poison the cop’s food. Shazam grabbed a bottle of paprika from a shelf.
He stuck his hand in his shirt, then pulled out a small capsule with a skull and crossbones marked across. Shazam pulled it apart and dumped the contents inside the container of paprika. It was just a tiny amount of a special Red Ribbon poison that was developed by the Biological Warfare division, but it was enough to kill an elephant. Thankfully, the paprika was the same reddish orange hue as the poison.
As Shazam opened the door, he nearly ran into the manager who was standing directly in front of the freezer with an angry expression. He was wearing overalls splattered with tomato juice and other liquids. “Look, I don’t know who you are, but-”
Suddenly, a waiter rushed into the kitchen and shouted to the manager, “We have a customer complaint at table six! They demanded to see a manager!” The boss facepalmed as the waiter slipped back outside. “I’ll deal with you later,” he said before storming out of the kitchen and trying to put on his best customer service expression.
Shazam sighed, then made his way back over to the chef. “What was that about?” the chef asked.
“Nothing, I think he was just angry that I was taking longer than normal,” Shazam replied. “Anyway, here’s the paprika,” he said before handing the bottle over to his coworker. The chef glanced at it, then poured it over the Teriyaki Oodon noodles.
“Alright Torbo, put that on the waiters’ counter and I’ll work on the next order,” the chef added before shooing Shazam away.
The staff officer only had a little bit of time before the manager came back. He picked up the noodles, rushed to the counter, placed them down, then quietly slipped out the back door. Thankfully no one was outside when he did so.
Shazam sprinted behind the dumpster and struggled to take off his disguise, then forced it on the unconscious chef. He was used to this, so it didn’t take him very long. Finally, he was back in his usual dress shirt and suspenders. The Red Ribbon officer sighed and rummaged through his own pocket, then found a small bottle of special smelling salts. Normally, this was used in interrogation if the person being questioned fell asleep or unconscious, but this was a different scenario. Shazam quickly squat down and opened the bottle, then shoved it under the chef’s nose.
Just as the chef began to open his eyelids, the staff officer had already climbed over a nearby fence and made his way onto the sidewalk. Shazam casually made his way back to his tinted Plymouth Fury and unlocked it, then went in the driver’s seat. He parked at a nice angle, he could see the inside of the restaurant through the windows. A cop that matched the description on the car’s user interface was sitting with a woman. They were currently speaking to a waiter who just brought them plates of food, one of which being Corporal Creol’s teriyaki Oodon noodles.
Shazam tapped his leg as he watched them for another few minutes. Creol was too busy being a creep to even take a bite of his food. The staff officer was patient, he’d take a bite in due time. He was sure of it.
Creol took his fork and spun it into the noodles, then gave the girl a sinister grin. He said something weird (likely something inappropriate) and took a bite. Moments later, he was on the floor choking to death. Shazam took the cue and drove off immediately, he only stuck around to make sure Creol took the poison. The pill Shazam used was meant to be easily spotted in an autopsy, so they’d know it was an assassination.
-
Next on the list was Sergeant Jamba. Staff Officer Shazam waved his hand over the dashboard user interface and navigated to Jamba’s profile. Jamba was an overweight cop with a habit of pulling people over and taking their belongings in the name of “evidence gathering.” Shazam looked through Jamba’s documentation for anything that would aid him.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t a whole lot to go off of. The best piece of information he could find is that Sergeant Jamba tends to patrol around the West District of North City. “I should reprimand my informants after this,” he muttered under his breath. Still, Shazam was resourceful and he wasn’t about to let a target slip because of a small intel setback.
Shazam switched the dashboard over to the GPS and plotted a route for the West District. Before setting off, he pulled over and made sure to empty all of his gadgets (except for a few key items) into a safe compartment, nigh-impossible to find compartment inside one of the seats in the back of the car. The Red Ribbon officer turned back onto the road and headed for the West District.
Officer Shazam analyzed his surroundings as he entered the district. It was poor and run-down. Squatters filled rows of broken homes, children ran down the streets playing tag while wearing old torn up clothing. The buildings were a drab, bleak brown color. It reminded Shazam of his hometown. His Plymouth Fury was completely out of place, it caused some of the locals to stare out of their windows.
He parked on the side of the road when he witnessed a cop pulling someone over. The car that the police vehicle stopped was an old, rusty van that had seen better days. Shazam tried to look casual as he watched the event unfold.
A fat police officer struggled to step out of the police car. Shazam eyed him closely as he walked up to the beat up van and knocked on the driver side window. "That's him," Shazam said under his breath.
Jamba’s victim rolled down the window. He was a raggedy looking fellow with messy hair and crooked teeth. “Is there a problem, officer?” he said.
The cop grinned from ear to ear and spoke in a condescending tone, “Yeah, I’m gonna need you to step out of the vehicle.”
The driver hesitated, then reluctantly opened the door and jumped out. He wore a dirty white t-shirt and blue jeans, likely his only clothing by the looks of it. “I was just trying to get to work, sir.”
“Shut up,” Jamba shouted before grabbing the driver’s arms and slapping handcuffs on him. The corrupt police officer pushed the driver against his car and dug through his pockets. He pulled out a mangled brown wallet and opened it up.
“Hm, seventeen zeni,” Jamba said. “That’s more than usual for this district. You a drug dealer, huh?”
“N-no sir,” the driver replied.
“Hmph, in that case, you won’t mind if I take this here wallet as evidence?” Jamba said with a sneer.
The driver gulped, “That’s all I have…”
“It’s okay, I’ll return it. I promise,” Jamba unlocked the handcuffs and motioned for the driver to return to his vehicle. “Now get the hell outta here.”
The driver jumped into his vehicle and drove off. Shazam’s brow lowered as he watched the cop waddle back to his police car, seemingly dissatisfied at the poverty of the district he patrolled. He wanted more money.
Shazam decided to give the cop what he wanted. He drove his clean black Plymouth Fury slowly off of the curb, then passed by Jamba’s car. Shazam wanted to make sure the cop saw him.
Jamba perked up as the Red Ribbon spy drove past. He turned on his police lights and Shazam parked, then waited for Jamba to settle behind. Shazam kept both hands on the wheel as the cop waddled out once again and met him at the driver side window.
The Plymouth Fury’s windows were far too tinted for Sergeant Jamba to see past, so he knocked. Shazam slowly lowered the window. “Yes, officer?” Shazam asked with an oblivious expression on his face.
Jamba grinned, “So, what are you doin’ out here with a car like this? And ya got nice clothes, too. I never see wealthy folks in the West District.”
“Leisure,” Shazam replied.
Sergeant Jamba shook his head, “Leisure? Here? What kinda leisure do you get from the West District? There’s nothing out here.”
“I want to visit all of the city. I come from West City, so I’m not familiar with this area,” Shazam said.
Jamba stroked his chin, “Alright, alright. You still seem a little… Suspicious. Why don’t you step out of the vehicle? Go ahead.”
Staff Officer Shazam opened the driver door and stepped out. His white and black dress clothes and suspenders were immaculate compared to his surroundings.
“I won’t bother handcuffing ya, you don’t seem like the desperate type,” Jamba stated. “Now turn around, I’ll need to frisk ya.” Shazam rotated and leaned against his Plymouth Fury.
“A quiet one, eh?” Jamba reached into Shazam’s pocket and pulled out a perfectly clean, smooth black wallet. The cop opened it up and looked inside, then took out the crisp zeni that was stacked within.
“Three hundred zeni!?” Jamba yelled in delight. “Oh boy, that’s a lot of profit- I mean, evidence. Yeah, evidence.”
“Can I go now, officer?” Shazam asked. “You can keep the wallet. I have places to be.”
“Go ahead, keep exploring the city. I won’t even pull ya over next time I see ya… Probably,” Jamba stated with a smile. He waved as he walked back to his police car. Shazam stepped into his Plymouth Fury, then drove off. Just as Sergeant Jamba squeezed into the driver seat of his police car, the vehicle violently exploded in all directions like fireworks. The locals walked out of their houses and looked on, then cheered. Shazam kept driving.
-
Last but not least on the chopping block was Chief Gorma. Staff Officer Shazam waved his hand over the dashboard as he left West District behind. The death of Sergeant Jamba was far too violent to be perceived as an accident, that was something he was sure of.
Shazam navigated to the Red Ribbon’s intel on Chief Gorma. He had an extensive history, even more colorful than his compatriots. Both of his parents were incredibly wealthy oil barons. Apparently, they enjoyed exploiting the poor with low wages, no benefits, and general disdain. Eventually, oil became less of a commodity in North City, so they lost their business. They had enough to coast for a while, but by the time their son Gorma was old enough, they were about out of funds. Determined to follow in his parents’ footsteps, he joined the police force with the goal of cracking down on the poor. He used his connections with the Gorma family to rise up the ranks to Chief of the North City Police Department. These days, he likes to spend his time on the force hiding in a penthouse on the top floor of the richest hotel in North City: Truffle Tower. Here, he directs the police department from afar, preferring not to get his hands dirty directly.
“Probably less liable,” Shazam thought as he continued to read Gorma’s documents. “And less work.”
Chief Gorma doesn’t leave his penthouse very often. He also has a tendency to delegate things to his subordinates, primarily Sergeant Jamba. Gorma presumably picked him because he was the least likely to go against his corrupt practices.
Shazam smirked as he switched the dashboard’s GPS to Truffle Tower, “Yeah, I guess he was right.”
-
The Red Ribbon assassin rolled up to Truffle Tower and parked on the curb, then got out onto the sidewalk. He craned his neck to look straight up. Truffle Tower was a massive building, almost as if it was designed to reach the heavens. The second tallest building was the North City Bureau of Trade, situated on the opposite side of the street. Shazam brought a large briefcase with him as he crossed the road.
The entrance to the Bureau of Trade tower was two sets of glass doors lined with silver. Truffle Tower was similar, but the doors were slightly larger and were lined with gold instead. Shazam headed inside the trade tower and analyzed his surroundings.
A gaggle of clerks, businessmen, and wealthy capital owners filled the interior of the first floor. The clerks wore the same drab gray suits, the businessmen wore a mix of casual dress wear and similar suits (but not as similar as the clerks), and the capital owners were a bit more eccentric in their taste with a range of colors.
“Good,” Shazam thought to himself as he casually walked down the nearest hall. “I fit right in.”
He passed by a couple of elevators on his way down the hall. Shazam wanted to use the staircase instead of the elevator. Less witnesses, less risk. When he reached the very end of the hallway, he noticed a sign in front of the staircase: “Closed For Construction”
“Usually it’s the other way around…” Shazam thought. He turned around and headed towards an elevator, then pressed one of the buttons with two fingers. Eventually, it opened up to reveal a rich man in a black suit with his arm wrapped around a woman’s shoulders. Shazam stood aside to allow them to exit, then the assassin entered. Just as the elevator was about to close, the most colorful man in North City slid between the metal doors. Shazam made sure to reach out and put a hand on one to allow him to enter.
The man wore an open white lynx fur coat with a purple dress shirt and red silky pants that shone in the elevator’s light. He wore a wide pink hat that hung lopsided on his scalp to cover one eye, and on the opposite end of his body was a pair of shiny white cowboy boots with spurs. A lit cigar was chomped between his strong Roman nose and chiseled jawline. Shazam was unsure of the brand, but it had to be expensive.
“What floor are you going to?” Shazam asked.
“Doesn’t matter,” the man replied.
Shazam reached over and hit the 98th floor, the highest the elevator could go. The eccentrically dressed man looked Shazam up and down.
“You really goin’ up that high?” he said.
Shazam nodded, “I have some errands to attend to.”
The colorful man shrugged his shoulders, “Ah well, not my business.”
Seconds, minutes, hours, and what felt like days passed as the elevator stopped and started over and over again. Ascending, descending, and then ascending again. A variety of businessmen came and went, but the colorfully dressed man was the only one besides Shazam that remained when the elevator reached floor 98.
“Your stop,” the man said with a grin, holding out his arm to motion for Shazam to exit like some sort of valet.
“Yeah,” Shazam replied coldly before walking out into the hallway of floor 98. The elevator doors closed behind him, leaving Shazam alone up there. Now, he needed to find a way to get to the roof.
There was a row of offices that lined the hall. All of them had large silver plaques with big, important names engraved. Officer Shazam looked around for a staircase to the roof, but none could be found. The only thing was a window that was situated at the very end of the hallway. Shazam walked over and looked down. The people of North City were like ants.
Shazam felt the bottom of the window. Thankfully, he was able to slide it up to halfway open. The 98th floor of the North City Bureau of Trade was a bit too high for anyone to realistically catch the assassin if he was quick about climbing up. He reached into his dress shirt and pulled out a small device with a button. He reached out of the window, aimed over the roof, then clicked it. A metal grappling hook shot out and latched onto the side of the roof. Shazam jumped through the window and swung himself up to the top, then clicked the button again to undo the hook and placed it back into his dress shirt.
The staff officer walked over to the side of the roof that was just opposite Truffle Tower. He placed his briefcase on the raised ledge in front of him, it was about waist height. Shazam opened the briefcase, revealing an assortment of metal parts of various shapes and sizes. He took a moment to look at them and remember the assembly steps, then went to work.
-
After about fifteen minutes, Shazam finished assembling a silenced 7.62 sniper rifle that he now held on a stable tripod balanced upon the ledge of the North City Bureau of Trade. He zero’d in his scope on the top floor, then looked through the magnifier.
Shazam witnessed business meetings, people watching TV, readers, phone calls, that sort of thing. Eventually, he saw someone that fit the description of Chief Gorma. He had a full head of white hair and wore a basic white t-shirt with black track pants. He was also wearing headphones with music blasting as evidenced by his head nodding. The staff officer took aim as Chief Gorma watched baseball on his huge flatscreen television.
The Red Ribbon assassin pulled the trigger. A round blasted off towards Chief Gorma’s head, crashed through the window, then narrowly missed as Gorma leaned over to pick up a remote.
“Hmph,” Shazam grunted as he readjusted his aim. Luckily, Gorma was too busy enjoying his music to notice the bullet that whizzed past. The North City police chief turned off the TV and walked over to a yoga mat, then began an exercise routine.
As Gorma got into a plank position, Shazam aimed right at the chief’s skull once more. He fired off another round. Gorma collapsed… but not from the bullet, it was the plank that did him in. The round went right over Gorma.
Shazam sighed and took aim. The police chief decided to end his little exercise early and walked over to his personal bar. He grabbed a drink, then sat on a barstool. The staff officer pulled the trigger one final time, and police chief Gorma drank his one last drink. A 7.62 bullet pierced Gorma’s skull from behind, killing him instantly. He slumped over his bar, deceased.
The staff officer quickly reassembled his rifle. That last part of the operation took a little bit longer than he’d hoped, but the deed was done. Now he just had to make it back to headquarters without getting caught.
He took his briefcase and climbed back down into the window, then closed it shut. Shazam began to sweat as he realized that the elevator was unlikely to come up to the 98th floor anytime soon.
To Shazam’s surprise, it opened just as he approached. The same colorful man from before was standing there waiting. Shazam entered, then hit the button for the bottom floor.
“In a hurry, huh?” the man assumed.
Shazam nodded and replied, “I have more errands.”
Eventually, the elevator reached the first floor and Shazam left. Once again, the man in the lynx fur coat stayed behind as the doors closed shut.
Staff Officer Shazam speed-walked out the silver glass doors and onto the sidewalk, then crossed the street to his black 1957 Plymouth Fury. He entered the driver side and threw his briefcase into the back and drove off, plotting a course for headquarters.
-
About halfway to headquarters on a country road, Shazam waved a hand over the dashboard and navigated to the communications section. He made a phone call.
An elderly voice answered, “I already know you finished the job. Good work, I was worried that the small time frame would’ve hampered things a bit. I can always rely on my best spy to get things done. Your reward will be waiting for you in a secured lockbox not far from the base. The coordinates have been sent to your car electronically.”
“Thank you, boss,” Shazam replied.
“No need to thank me. Expect more tasks in the near future. Good luck, Shazam,” the boss said before closing communications. The staff officer entered the coordinates sent to his dashboard and headed towards the lockbox.
-
The Plymouth Fury ground to a halt, kicking up dirt and pebbles that flung into nearby bushes. A black box was sitting at the base of a tree in the middle of a forest. Shazam stepped out of his vehicle, then walked over to the box and crouched down.
“Kept it locked for me,” Shazam muttered before reaching into his pocket. He pulled out some sort of electronic key and placed it next to the lockbox. After just a moment, it flung open and revealed the contents. Several gemstones of all kinds were piled within. At the very top of the treasure heap was a paper vacation waiver. Shazam picked it up and read it:
“ONE MONTH AWAY FROM WORK… EXCEPT FOR EMERGENCIES”
WC: 6,147
A seemingly alarming number of police officers within the North City PD have become corrupt and like to steal evidence and money from crime scenes. Some, have even come across Ki Blasters and the power has gone to their head. Someone has to be leading them, you have been tasked with taking out these 'wannabe' officers and finding and taking out the leader, by arrest or by death. The choice is yours...
Rewards: ↓
Stat Reward: Zeni Reward:
+ 25% PL gains + 25% ƶ gains
Extra Info: ↓
* N/A
*
* Required: At least 2,100 words
-
Staff Officer Shazam was sitting at his desk. A stack of unfinished paperwork loomed over him, the shadow casting a reminder that the Red Ribbon Army saw him as nothing but a pencil-pusher in quiet times like these. Part of him missed the days when he was first recruited, back when all he had to worry about was showing up to training and making his commanding officers happy. Now he was the officer, and he bore all the responsibility his position entailed.
He was writing through a food safety form when he decided to take a break. Shazam slid one of his desk drawers open and threw his little golden pen inside, then closed it. The officer stood up and stretched his legs, he’d been sitting in the same spot for hours. He wore a white dress shirt with suspenders attached to black dress pants. Expensive black shoes adorned his feet.
Shazam took a quick glance over his office… Just in case. There was a single door on the opposite end from his desk that led to the rest of the Red Ribbon Army headquarters. A special noise-dampening red carpet decorated the hardwood floor of the office. The walls were completely covered in filled bookshelves from floor to ceiling. Non-fiction only.
His mahogany desk always had his trusty full-sized double-action revolver sitting on the right side. Shazam’s office had been infiltrated a couple of times since he was given his rank of Staff Officer, so it wasn’t a bad idea to stay strapped at all times. A rotary phone sat on the opposite side of the desk, always ready to ring at the most inconvenient of-
RING-RING-RING-RING-RING
Shazam’s phone began to ring loudly as he was in mid-stretch. “Dammit,” he said under his breath before he sat down on his leather chair and picked the phone up. The Red Ribbon Army was incredibly secretive with their phone calls, each phone was protected by the latest anti-eavesdropping device that the egg-heads at R&D could come up with. This was especially important for Shazam, who was the leader of the Espionage Department at headquarters.
“Hello, Staff Officer Shazam speaking.”
An elderly voice croaked through the line, “Shazam! I have an assignment for you.”
“Yes?” Shazam said with bated breath, his legs about ready to cramp up from his interrupted stretching.
“Listen to me very carefully, and do not write any of this down. You are the only person I am telling this to, Shazam. This is between me and you, not even the other higher-ups are aware,” the old man warned.
Shazam’s eyes narrowed as he held the black phone up to his ear, “Go on.”
“I assume you are very well aware that we have been paying off the North City Police Department for a while now. The operation has allowed us to work in North City without government interference. We have an… Interesting issue. For whatever reason, the police have gone rogue. Stealing money, robbing civilians in the guise of pat-downs, sabotaging evidence to cover their own asses…”
“I’ve heard,” Shazam interrupted.
The officer could feel his boss smiling on the other end of the call, “Ah, I knew I could count on you. As informed as always, that’s why I promoted you to staff officer of the Espionage Department. Anyway, normally we wouldn’t care, but this has been a rampant enough problem that the higher authorities could very well launch an investigation into the matter. This means our little bribery operation with the North City police would be compromised,” the boss explained.
“How can I fix the issue?” Shazam inquired.
The boss cleared his throat, “There are three police officers you must eliminate. Each one is a high-ranking and influential member of the North City PD. They have promoted the rampant corruption that plagues their organization. Your targets are Chief Gorma, Sergeant Jamba, and Corporal Creol.”
Shazam hesitated before speaking. Assassination wasn’t a job he enjoyed, but he was no stranger to the task. “How would you prefer I deal with them?” he asked.
The boss spoke, “You need to eliminate all three on the same day, and you need to make it obvious that they were assassinated. This is because we have to send a message to the North City Police Department. They have to know that someone will hunt them down if they continue to harass civilians.”
Officer Shazam’s mouth formed into a smirk, “Strangely noble, boss.”
The boss let out a sinister chuckle, then returned to his serious tone of voice. “I know, I know, but you know how it goes. Anyway, I expect you to begin your work tomorrow. I have high expectations, Shazam. Don’t disappoint me.”
The line ended and Shazam hung the phone back into its carriage and exhaled. When he wished for more action, he didn’t mean killing three people on the same day.
Shazam stood up and finished stretching his legs, then walked over to one of his bookshelves. He took out a book, then reached into the shelf and flipped a switch. The bookshelf shuddered, then slowly slid down to reveal an arsenal.
He waltzed inside and looked around. The room stretched about twenty meters back and was all white with various black metal shelves, hooks, and other adornments that held the vast array of firearms and gadgets that belonged to Shazam. Most of it was supplied by the Red Ribbon Army, but some was paid for by the staff officer out of pocket. He took his job seriously, after all.
Shazam picked out a few items from the arsenal and noted to put them in the trunk of his car tomorrow morning. He had a long day ahead of him.
THE LONG DAY -
Staff Officer Shazam drove down a busy road in downtown North City. His car had incredibly dark-tinted bulletproof windows, dark enough to where there wasn’t even a silhouette behind them. Strong metal plates sat behind the sleek black finish of the vehicle. It was a 1957 Plymouth Fury that he personally bought with his first few checks after being promoted.
Assassination was always his least favorite job. It was often messy, difficult, and arguably the most morally ambiguous part of his job description. He looked up into the morning sky and pondered his situation briefly, then quickly resolved to see through with the task.
Shazam quickly waved a hand over his car’s advanced dashboard and navigated to the file on Corporal Creol, his first target. The blue glow of the user interface lit up the interior.
“Best to start with the underlings,” he muttered. If he targeted the chief first, it was a real possibility that it would alert everyone in the North City Police Department within minutes. No, it was better to work his way up.
Shazam scanned through Corporal Creol’s records. He was 34 years old, had a drinking problem, and liked to harass women. The Red Ribbon officer began to feel a lot less guilty about what he was going to do as he read through Creol’s rather awful background.
As he searched for anything that would aid his operation, a line in the document caught Shazam’s eye. “... likes to bully women into eating out with him at Oodon’s Noodles, his favorite restaurant. He spends many hours of his shift there. He always orders the special Teriyaki Oodon Special with a side of red wine and fortune cookies.”
Officer Shazam smirked, then navigated over to the GPS screen and plotted a route to Oodon’s Noodles.
Eventually, he found the restaurant. It was a decent place, nothing special, but not run down by any means. Luckily, a police vehicle sat on the opposite side of the road. “Must be Creol,” he thought. Shazam parked his car on the side of the road, then walked into the alleyway next to Oodon’s Noodles. The way to the back was blocked off by some sort of gate, and a guard was standing in front of it.
“Stop,” the guard said. “You shouldn’t be here, this is private property.”
Shazam reached into his pocket and took out a fake chef’s license. “I was just hired, I’m the new cook.”
The guard took the license and analyzed it closely. “Hm, seems legitimate, but they usually tell me whenever they hire someone new.”
“I can assure you that I’m one of the best noodle chefs in North City. Our boss would be very angry if he didn’t have me in the kitchen today,” Shazam explained, lying through his teeth. “Do you really want to make him mad?”
The guard sighed, “Fine, you don’t look dangerous or anything. Weird outfit you got on there, but maybe you’re just being overly formal for your first day. I understand…” He opened the gate and let Shazam through.
As the guard closed the gate, Shazam made his way to the back door entrance to Oodon’s Noodles. He pocketed his fake I.D., it was actually a customizable holographic card that could accurately mimic hundreds of types of official identification.
Shazam reached for the doorknob, then hesitated. He had no disguise, it was unlikely that the fake I.D. would fool the actual restaurant staff. The officer took a different approach and hid behind a nearby dumpster, patiently lying in wait like a predator in the ambush.
The back door slowly opened and a man of average height wearing a chef’s uniform stepped out of the building. It was clear that he was on break, he lifted his big white chef’s hat and pulled out some sort of adult book. He leaned against the restaurant and began reading.
Staff Officer Shazam’s body and clothing shifted patterns until they matched the surrounding alleyway. It was a power that Shazam was gifted with from birth, he wasn’t quite sure how he attained it. His chameleon invisibility was greatly treasured by the Red Ribbon Army and likely one of the biggest reasons he was chosen to be in his position.
The chef was lost in his book as Shazam slowly approached. The officer pulled out a handkerchief with special sleep chemicals sprayed on it beforehand. He lunged at the chef, covering his face with the rag in one hand and choking him out with the other. The chef struggled for a moment, then fell unconscious. Shazam gently placed him on the steps below the back door, making sure that no noise was made that could alert the people inside. He stripped the chef, then donned his uniform. It wasn’t a perfect fit, but it would do.
Shazam carefully dragged the unconscious chef behind the dumpster. Thankfully, they didn’t look horribly different from each other. Both had blond hair, though Shazam was notably more muscular and handsome. The officer took the chef’s real I.D. just in case. He stood up and looked around for any witnesses, then opened the back door to Oodon’s Noodles. A blast of sound hit Shazam like a truck and overflowed his senses. A nearby employee pushed a cart full of plates and without looking at the disguised officer said, “Back from your lunch break already, Cayan?”
“Yes,” Shazam said before following the employee to see where he would go.
“You sound a little different. Is that book getting to you? Anyway, there’s a few orders in the kitchen that are waiting on the other chef, but he’s been too busy with the rest of the orders to do them,” the employee explained. “Can you get to those real quick?”
“I’ll do them,” Shazam answered plainly. The disguised officer swiveled his head to find the order list. In the middle of the kitchen wall was a small window that contained a wire with a number of pieces of paper on them with various orders written down. Presumably, waiters and waitresses on the other side would place them there once they wrote down a customer’s order. That was the key to his goal.
Shazam quickly strolled over to the orders, making sure to tilt his head down and keep his chef hat low to prevent anyone from catching on. He passed a couple of cooks that gave him a brief quizzical glance. Thankfully, they were too busy with their own orders to sniff him out. He reached the list and took a quick peek at each one. There were three hanging on the wire.
The first order was for an extra spicy curry bowl with sauteed onions and poultry. Shazam shook his head, “Not that one.” The second was for…
“Eggnog stew?” he rubbed his eyes to make sure he was reading that correctly. “Eggnog stew with a side of sake. Moving on…” Finally, he checked the third order. His eyes lit up, “... Teriyaki Oodon Special with a side of red wine.” An additional note was hastily scribbled on the bottom by the waiter, “It’s the creepy cop. Don’t screw it up.”
Shazam made sure no one was looking, then switched the cop’s order to the first in line and shifted the others further to the right. That way no one would get onto him for starting with the cop’s order first. Besides, he could just say that he prioritized him because of his authority. The disguised chef turned around and headed deeper into the kitchen. He had some experience with cooking for himself, but nothing like a restaurant.
The manager eyed Shazam from afar as the Red Ribbon spy checked through various cabinets and containers for the teriyaki noodles. Shazam noticed the manager in the corner of his eye and decided to look busy by telling one of the nearby chefs to work on the cop’s order. “I heard he’s in a bad mood,” Shazam said to the cook. “You just finished an order, probably best to start with this one huh?”
The chef stood still for just a moment, then processed what Shazam just said. “You’re right, why don’t you help me out? That way we can get it done faster.”
A bead of sweat dropped down Shazam’s cool, collected face, “No problem. Say, I uh… I’m feeling a bit under the weather today. Can you remind me where we keep the teriyaki Oodon noodles?”
The chef pointed at a walk-in freezer with a large metal door and began gathering the utensils without saying a word. “Right,” Shazam said before heading over to the freezer. He quickly opened the door and then closed it shut behind him. Shazam exhaled, then checked his surroundings.
It was cold, obviously. Chops of salted meat laid on sterilized metallic surfaces at chest height. Vegetables and the like were organized at the very top shelf of the freezer.
Shazam breathed a sigh of relief when he opened a box and found various noodle packets loosely laid on top of each other. Thanks to his keen eyes, he was able to pick out the specific Teriyaki Oodon Special bag. He opened the door to the freezer, then exited and slammed it shut on his way out. Chef Shazam held out the packet for his coworker, “Here you go.”
“Oh, I thought you- You know what, let’s just do this. Give me that packet. You took a lot longer than normal, but there’s no time for that,” the chef said, slightly irritated at his coworker’s sudden lack of competence.
After a while of cooking and Shazam clumsily aiding the chef by finding utensils and ingredients, the dish was almost done.
“Alright, Torbo,” the chef began. “One more thing. Can you get the paprika out of the freezer? I’ll sprinkle that on here and then we’ll be done.”
The disguised staff officer nodded and said, “No problem.” He ran to the freezer, thankfully he knew exactly where the paprika was due to his last adventure. Suddenly, he realized this was the very last chance to poison the cop’s food. Shazam grabbed a bottle of paprika from a shelf.
He stuck his hand in his shirt, then pulled out a small capsule with a skull and crossbones marked across. Shazam pulled it apart and dumped the contents inside the container of paprika. It was just a tiny amount of a special Red Ribbon poison that was developed by the Biological Warfare division, but it was enough to kill an elephant. Thankfully, the paprika was the same reddish orange hue as the poison.
As Shazam opened the door, he nearly ran into the manager who was standing directly in front of the freezer with an angry expression. He was wearing overalls splattered with tomato juice and other liquids. “Look, I don’t know who you are, but-”
Suddenly, a waiter rushed into the kitchen and shouted to the manager, “We have a customer complaint at table six! They demanded to see a manager!” The boss facepalmed as the waiter slipped back outside. “I’ll deal with you later,” he said before storming out of the kitchen and trying to put on his best customer service expression.
Shazam sighed, then made his way back over to the chef. “What was that about?” the chef asked.
“Nothing, I think he was just angry that I was taking longer than normal,” Shazam replied. “Anyway, here’s the paprika,” he said before handing the bottle over to his coworker. The chef glanced at it, then poured it over the Teriyaki Oodon noodles.
“Alright Torbo, put that on the waiters’ counter and I’ll work on the next order,” the chef added before shooing Shazam away.
The staff officer only had a little bit of time before the manager came back. He picked up the noodles, rushed to the counter, placed them down, then quietly slipped out the back door. Thankfully no one was outside when he did so.
Shazam sprinted behind the dumpster and struggled to take off his disguise, then forced it on the unconscious chef. He was used to this, so it didn’t take him very long. Finally, he was back in his usual dress shirt and suspenders. The Red Ribbon officer sighed and rummaged through his own pocket, then found a small bottle of special smelling salts. Normally, this was used in interrogation if the person being questioned fell asleep or unconscious, but this was a different scenario. Shazam quickly squat down and opened the bottle, then shoved it under the chef’s nose.
Just as the chef began to open his eyelids, the staff officer had already climbed over a nearby fence and made his way onto the sidewalk. Shazam casually made his way back to his tinted Plymouth Fury and unlocked it, then went in the driver’s seat. He parked at a nice angle, he could see the inside of the restaurant through the windows. A cop that matched the description on the car’s user interface was sitting with a woman. They were currently speaking to a waiter who just brought them plates of food, one of which being Corporal Creol’s teriyaki Oodon noodles.
Shazam tapped his leg as he watched them for another few minutes. Creol was too busy being a creep to even take a bite of his food. The staff officer was patient, he’d take a bite in due time. He was sure of it.
Creol took his fork and spun it into the noodles, then gave the girl a sinister grin. He said something weird (likely something inappropriate) and took a bite. Moments later, he was on the floor choking to death. Shazam took the cue and drove off immediately, he only stuck around to make sure Creol took the poison. The pill Shazam used was meant to be easily spotted in an autopsy, so they’d know it was an assassination.
-
Next on the list was Sergeant Jamba. Staff Officer Shazam waved his hand over the dashboard user interface and navigated to Jamba’s profile. Jamba was an overweight cop with a habit of pulling people over and taking their belongings in the name of “evidence gathering.” Shazam looked through Jamba’s documentation for anything that would aid him.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t a whole lot to go off of. The best piece of information he could find is that Sergeant Jamba tends to patrol around the West District of North City. “I should reprimand my informants after this,” he muttered under his breath. Still, Shazam was resourceful and he wasn’t about to let a target slip because of a small intel setback.
Shazam switched the dashboard over to the GPS and plotted a route for the West District. Before setting off, he pulled over and made sure to empty all of his gadgets (except for a few key items) into a safe compartment, nigh-impossible to find compartment inside one of the seats in the back of the car. The Red Ribbon officer turned back onto the road and headed for the West District.
Officer Shazam analyzed his surroundings as he entered the district. It was poor and run-down. Squatters filled rows of broken homes, children ran down the streets playing tag while wearing old torn up clothing. The buildings were a drab, bleak brown color. It reminded Shazam of his hometown. His Plymouth Fury was completely out of place, it caused some of the locals to stare out of their windows.
He parked on the side of the road when he witnessed a cop pulling someone over. The car that the police vehicle stopped was an old, rusty van that had seen better days. Shazam tried to look casual as he watched the event unfold.
A fat police officer struggled to step out of the police car. Shazam eyed him closely as he walked up to the beat up van and knocked on the driver side window. "That's him," Shazam said under his breath.
Jamba’s victim rolled down the window. He was a raggedy looking fellow with messy hair and crooked teeth. “Is there a problem, officer?” he said.
The cop grinned from ear to ear and spoke in a condescending tone, “Yeah, I’m gonna need you to step out of the vehicle.”
The driver hesitated, then reluctantly opened the door and jumped out. He wore a dirty white t-shirt and blue jeans, likely his only clothing by the looks of it. “I was just trying to get to work, sir.”
“Shut up,” Jamba shouted before grabbing the driver’s arms and slapping handcuffs on him. The corrupt police officer pushed the driver against his car and dug through his pockets. He pulled out a mangled brown wallet and opened it up.
“Hm, seventeen zeni,” Jamba said. “That’s more than usual for this district. You a drug dealer, huh?”
“N-no sir,” the driver replied.
“Hmph, in that case, you won’t mind if I take this here wallet as evidence?” Jamba said with a sneer.
The driver gulped, “That’s all I have…”
“It’s okay, I’ll return it. I promise,” Jamba unlocked the handcuffs and motioned for the driver to return to his vehicle. “Now get the hell outta here.”
The driver jumped into his vehicle and drove off. Shazam’s brow lowered as he watched the cop waddle back to his police car, seemingly dissatisfied at the poverty of the district he patrolled. He wanted more money.
Shazam decided to give the cop what he wanted. He drove his clean black Plymouth Fury slowly off of the curb, then passed by Jamba’s car. Shazam wanted to make sure the cop saw him.
Jamba perked up as the Red Ribbon spy drove past. He turned on his police lights and Shazam parked, then waited for Jamba to settle behind. Shazam kept both hands on the wheel as the cop waddled out once again and met him at the driver side window.
The Plymouth Fury’s windows were far too tinted for Sergeant Jamba to see past, so he knocked. Shazam slowly lowered the window. “Yes, officer?” Shazam asked with an oblivious expression on his face.
Jamba grinned, “So, what are you doin’ out here with a car like this? And ya got nice clothes, too. I never see wealthy folks in the West District.”
“Leisure,” Shazam replied.
Sergeant Jamba shook his head, “Leisure? Here? What kinda leisure do you get from the West District? There’s nothing out here.”
“I want to visit all of the city. I come from West City, so I’m not familiar with this area,” Shazam said.
Jamba stroked his chin, “Alright, alright. You still seem a little… Suspicious. Why don’t you step out of the vehicle? Go ahead.”
Staff Officer Shazam opened the driver door and stepped out. His white and black dress clothes and suspenders were immaculate compared to his surroundings.
“I won’t bother handcuffing ya, you don’t seem like the desperate type,” Jamba stated. “Now turn around, I’ll need to frisk ya.” Shazam rotated and leaned against his Plymouth Fury.
“A quiet one, eh?” Jamba reached into Shazam’s pocket and pulled out a perfectly clean, smooth black wallet. The cop opened it up and looked inside, then took out the crisp zeni that was stacked within.
“Three hundred zeni!?” Jamba yelled in delight. “Oh boy, that’s a lot of profit- I mean, evidence. Yeah, evidence.”
“Can I go now, officer?” Shazam asked. “You can keep the wallet. I have places to be.”
“Go ahead, keep exploring the city. I won’t even pull ya over next time I see ya… Probably,” Jamba stated with a smile. He waved as he walked back to his police car. Shazam stepped into his Plymouth Fury, then drove off. Just as Sergeant Jamba squeezed into the driver seat of his police car, the vehicle violently exploded in all directions like fireworks. The locals walked out of their houses and looked on, then cheered. Shazam kept driving.
-
Last but not least on the chopping block was Chief Gorma. Staff Officer Shazam waved his hand over the dashboard as he left West District behind. The death of Sergeant Jamba was far too violent to be perceived as an accident, that was something he was sure of.
Shazam navigated to the Red Ribbon’s intel on Chief Gorma. He had an extensive history, even more colorful than his compatriots. Both of his parents were incredibly wealthy oil barons. Apparently, they enjoyed exploiting the poor with low wages, no benefits, and general disdain. Eventually, oil became less of a commodity in North City, so they lost their business. They had enough to coast for a while, but by the time their son Gorma was old enough, they were about out of funds. Determined to follow in his parents’ footsteps, he joined the police force with the goal of cracking down on the poor. He used his connections with the Gorma family to rise up the ranks to Chief of the North City Police Department. These days, he likes to spend his time on the force hiding in a penthouse on the top floor of the richest hotel in North City: Truffle Tower. Here, he directs the police department from afar, preferring not to get his hands dirty directly.
“Probably less liable,” Shazam thought as he continued to read Gorma’s documents. “And less work.”
Chief Gorma doesn’t leave his penthouse very often. He also has a tendency to delegate things to his subordinates, primarily Sergeant Jamba. Gorma presumably picked him because he was the least likely to go against his corrupt practices.
Shazam smirked as he switched the dashboard’s GPS to Truffle Tower, “Yeah, I guess he was right.”
-
The Red Ribbon assassin rolled up to Truffle Tower and parked on the curb, then got out onto the sidewalk. He craned his neck to look straight up. Truffle Tower was a massive building, almost as if it was designed to reach the heavens. The second tallest building was the North City Bureau of Trade, situated on the opposite side of the street. Shazam brought a large briefcase with him as he crossed the road.
The entrance to the Bureau of Trade tower was two sets of glass doors lined with silver. Truffle Tower was similar, but the doors were slightly larger and were lined with gold instead. Shazam headed inside the trade tower and analyzed his surroundings.
A gaggle of clerks, businessmen, and wealthy capital owners filled the interior of the first floor. The clerks wore the same drab gray suits, the businessmen wore a mix of casual dress wear and similar suits (but not as similar as the clerks), and the capital owners were a bit more eccentric in their taste with a range of colors.
“Good,” Shazam thought to himself as he casually walked down the nearest hall. “I fit right in.”
He passed by a couple of elevators on his way down the hall. Shazam wanted to use the staircase instead of the elevator. Less witnesses, less risk. When he reached the very end of the hallway, he noticed a sign in front of the staircase: “Closed For Construction”
“Usually it’s the other way around…” Shazam thought. He turned around and headed towards an elevator, then pressed one of the buttons with two fingers. Eventually, it opened up to reveal a rich man in a black suit with his arm wrapped around a woman’s shoulders. Shazam stood aside to allow them to exit, then the assassin entered. Just as the elevator was about to close, the most colorful man in North City slid between the metal doors. Shazam made sure to reach out and put a hand on one to allow him to enter.
The man wore an open white lynx fur coat with a purple dress shirt and red silky pants that shone in the elevator’s light. He wore a wide pink hat that hung lopsided on his scalp to cover one eye, and on the opposite end of his body was a pair of shiny white cowboy boots with spurs. A lit cigar was chomped between his strong Roman nose and chiseled jawline. Shazam was unsure of the brand, but it had to be expensive.
“What floor are you going to?” Shazam asked.
“Doesn’t matter,” the man replied.
Shazam reached over and hit the 98th floor, the highest the elevator could go. The eccentrically dressed man looked Shazam up and down.
“You really goin’ up that high?” he said.
Shazam nodded, “I have some errands to attend to.”
The colorful man shrugged his shoulders, “Ah well, not my business.”
Seconds, minutes, hours, and what felt like days passed as the elevator stopped and started over and over again. Ascending, descending, and then ascending again. A variety of businessmen came and went, but the colorfully dressed man was the only one besides Shazam that remained when the elevator reached floor 98.
“Your stop,” the man said with a grin, holding out his arm to motion for Shazam to exit like some sort of valet.
“Yeah,” Shazam replied coldly before walking out into the hallway of floor 98. The elevator doors closed behind him, leaving Shazam alone up there. Now, he needed to find a way to get to the roof.
There was a row of offices that lined the hall. All of them had large silver plaques with big, important names engraved. Officer Shazam looked around for a staircase to the roof, but none could be found. The only thing was a window that was situated at the very end of the hallway. Shazam walked over and looked down. The people of North City were like ants.
Shazam felt the bottom of the window. Thankfully, he was able to slide it up to halfway open. The 98th floor of the North City Bureau of Trade was a bit too high for anyone to realistically catch the assassin if he was quick about climbing up. He reached into his dress shirt and pulled out a small device with a button. He reached out of the window, aimed over the roof, then clicked it. A metal grappling hook shot out and latched onto the side of the roof. Shazam jumped through the window and swung himself up to the top, then clicked the button again to undo the hook and placed it back into his dress shirt.
The staff officer walked over to the side of the roof that was just opposite Truffle Tower. He placed his briefcase on the raised ledge in front of him, it was about waist height. Shazam opened the briefcase, revealing an assortment of metal parts of various shapes and sizes. He took a moment to look at them and remember the assembly steps, then went to work.
-
After about fifteen minutes, Shazam finished assembling a silenced 7.62 sniper rifle that he now held on a stable tripod balanced upon the ledge of the North City Bureau of Trade. He zero’d in his scope on the top floor, then looked through the magnifier.
Shazam witnessed business meetings, people watching TV, readers, phone calls, that sort of thing. Eventually, he saw someone that fit the description of Chief Gorma. He had a full head of white hair and wore a basic white t-shirt with black track pants. He was also wearing headphones with music blasting as evidenced by his head nodding. The staff officer took aim as Chief Gorma watched baseball on his huge flatscreen television.
The Red Ribbon assassin pulled the trigger. A round blasted off towards Chief Gorma’s head, crashed through the window, then narrowly missed as Gorma leaned over to pick up a remote.
“Hmph,” Shazam grunted as he readjusted his aim. Luckily, Gorma was too busy enjoying his music to notice the bullet that whizzed past. The North City police chief turned off the TV and walked over to a yoga mat, then began an exercise routine.
As Gorma got into a plank position, Shazam aimed right at the chief’s skull once more. He fired off another round. Gorma collapsed… but not from the bullet, it was the plank that did him in. The round went right over Gorma.
Shazam sighed and took aim. The police chief decided to end his little exercise early and walked over to his personal bar. He grabbed a drink, then sat on a barstool. The staff officer pulled the trigger one final time, and police chief Gorma drank his one last drink. A 7.62 bullet pierced Gorma’s skull from behind, killing him instantly. He slumped over his bar, deceased.
The staff officer quickly reassembled his rifle. That last part of the operation took a little bit longer than he’d hoped, but the deed was done. Now he just had to make it back to headquarters without getting caught.
He took his briefcase and climbed back down into the window, then closed it shut. Shazam began to sweat as he realized that the elevator was unlikely to come up to the 98th floor anytime soon.
To Shazam’s surprise, it opened just as he approached. The same colorful man from before was standing there waiting. Shazam entered, then hit the button for the bottom floor.
“In a hurry, huh?” the man assumed.
Shazam nodded and replied, “I have more errands.”
Eventually, the elevator reached the first floor and Shazam left. Once again, the man in the lynx fur coat stayed behind as the doors closed shut.
Staff Officer Shazam speed-walked out the silver glass doors and onto the sidewalk, then crossed the street to his black 1957 Plymouth Fury. He entered the driver side and threw his briefcase into the back and drove off, plotting a course for headquarters.
-
About halfway to headquarters on a country road, Shazam waved a hand over the dashboard and navigated to the communications section. He made a phone call.
An elderly voice answered, “I already know you finished the job. Good work, I was worried that the small time frame would’ve hampered things a bit. I can always rely on my best spy to get things done. Your reward will be waiting for you in a secured lockbox not far from the base. The coordinates have been sent to your car electronically.”
“Thank you, boss,” Shazam replied.
“No need to thank me. Expect more tasks in the near future. Good luck, Shazam,” the boss said before closing communications. The staff officer entered the coordinates sent to his dashboard and headed towards the lockbox.
-
The Plymouth Fury ground to a halt, kicking up dirt and pebbles that flung into nearby bushes. A black box was sitting at the base of a tree in the middle of a forest. Shazam stepped out of his vehicle, then walked over to the box and crouched down.
“Kept it locked for me,” Shazam muttered before reaching into his pocket. He pulled out some sort of electronic key and placed it next to the lockbox. After just a moment, it flung open and revealed the contents. Several gemstones of all kinds were piled within. At the very top of the treasure heap was a paper vacation waiver. Shazam picked it up and read it:
“ONE MONTH AWAY FROM WORK… EXCEPT FOR EMERGENCIES”
WC: 6,147
