Action Squad! (Updated 4/16)

"John, I've got to take you off this case."

John McInnis stood in front of the captain's desk with his eyes full of righteous rage. "Take me off this case?! TAKE ME OFF THIS CASE? I made this case!"

Captain Osbourne leaned back in his chair. Here we go again. It was the third time this month he'd had to dress McInnis down. The third time this month this little scene had played out. It was pretty much always the same. There were parts, in fact, that Osbourne had memorized like lines in a play. I wanted to be an actor. That's why I moved out here to L.A. in the first place. There was that girl - Rachel - who got me a bit part in Ironside. That's been - geez, has it been 20 years? I'm too old for this sh**. Osbourne focused back on McInnis.

"My grandfather worked with Eliot Ness! My great-grandfather stepped off the boat from Ireland and started working for the NYPD!"

Ah, he was into the "history" phase of the tantrum. That leads into the "why I work the way I do" part, followed by the "I can't teach these numbskulls around me how to be a cop" and finally the "you understand, Captain, you've been a cop for 20 years!" wrap-up. Yep, 20 years. I can retire with a full pension whenever I want now. But there always seems to be one more case to resolve. The Night Stalker trial was wrapping up and it looked pretty good. Of course it gets replaced in the stack by the Menendez murders. Something's not right about that one. Those brothers just have a weird look about them.

"I mean, Johnson just rides around in his car all day looking at prostitutes! And I'm the one getting called on the carpet?"

I see we're going with the "poor pity me" version of the "no one knows how to be a cop" bit. It wasn't that McInnis was a bad cop - on the contrary, he was an excellent cop. The problem was that he couldn't make a collar without serious property damage. It seemed like the worse the crime, the higher dollar value of what got blown up. Not to mention his "investigative tactics" he was so fond of. B&E didn't apply to McInnis, apparently. He hated to have to put another write-up in his folder - hell, McInnis would probably be sitting in my chair if it weren't for the write-ups - but the mayor's office was breathing down his neck for some accountability.

"...you've been a cop for 20 years, Chief!" Ah, there's my cue.

"John, I know you're a good cop. We all saw the 500 kilos of drugs you brought in yesterday. We've got three dealers in custody and six more in the morgue. And off the record, we're all damn proud of the job you're doing. But g**dammit John, if you keep blowing up civilian's cars the city's not going to be able to afford insurance anymore! You know what that means? It means we get stuck WALKING everywhere! You don't want to be busted down to beat cop? You keep it up and we'll ALL be beat cops g**dammit!

"Now you listen up and you listen good: the takedown yesterday was good, but it didn't get the guys who're bringing this stuff in. There's opium all over the g**damn streets of this city and the press is really p*ssing off the mayor's office. You know what the jokers down at the Times have named this sh*t? POO! Stands for Purified Optimized Opium! That's their headline: Streets filled with POO! G**dammit, it makes a mockery of the force! You've got 48 hours to get this case wrapped up or it's your ass, you hear me McInnis!

McInnis knew his part as well as the Captain. He had started out of the office at the last sentence, opened the door so everyone in the squad room could hear "...or it's your ass" and slammed it shut behind him. Every blue suit in the room was quietly working, but all attention was on McInnis. He stood seething for the count of five, then turned and started for his desk. Halfway to it, he heard the captain's door open again.

"Get back to work people! I don't pay you to sit on your ass! Shirley, bring me a coffee and danish."

Is this...could it be....finally, after all this time?

Do I dare to hope?

Pierce is doing a Storyhour!! It's like Christmas come early.


Peterson

This looks like a ton of fun. The Medallions group has to be one of the most creative groups of RPGers I've ever seen.

I'm looking forward to reading more. Is this an ongoing campaign, or is/was this a one-shot type?

caixa said:

Is this...could it be....finally, after all this time?

Do I dare to hope?

Pierce is doing a Storyhour!! It's like Christmas come early.


Peterson

Click to expand...

Man, one post in and I'm already getting a big head

This is a one-shot, though it will probably grow into a semi-regular side game. Ledded is out this week on vacation, so Drew Id cooked up this diversion. In a nutshell, it's a riff on all the cheesy buddy-cop/action-cop movies of the 80s and 90s. Everyone's character is a cliche and you probably won't see any kind of the freaky strangeness you've come to expect from the Medallions campaign. From what I understand, we're going for the straight up shoot the bad guys - no FX, no magic. Opening night is scheduled for Wednesday, so I'm going to try to post up the prolog/intro material by then. Then we'll see how well I do at keeping up

Oh, and John McInnis is my character. He's going to be sooooo much fun

Pierce! You scally-wag!

It's about dern time. I'm looking forward to this one.

You're up slugger, make us proud.

The man on the green Harley roared up in the visitors parking outside the LAPD headquarters. He was definitely not from California. The dusty, well-worn camouflage jacket worn over rugged overalls and a henley that used to be white would have tipped off all the locals who weren't blind. The hunter's orange ball cap he wore snug on his head would have done it for the blind ones.

"Hoo-ee! Cho, I'm a right Saleau, for true! Ain't dat right, Caimon?" Anyone startled enough to actually stop and consider the man might have though he was talking to his bike. Those a bit more observant would have seen the alligator head mounted on the front. The ones with the sharpest eyes may have noticed that the custom paint job was patterned into reptilian scales and that the shadow of the rear leg camouflaged the Mossburg in a shotgun holster quite nicely.

He sniffed his armpits. "Ech, Caimon, I gotta Pouponer 'fore I head in to my meetin' else I be all a' hont! You stay ri' chere an watch my chose, bebette."

Pulling off his cap just long enough to run a comb through his graying, greased hair, the Cajun headed for the front entrance. He checked his appearance one last time in the reflection of the plate glass door, grimaced, and entered. The bustle inside was about what he was used to on a busy Saturday night back home in Louisiana. Of course, it was 10AM on a Monday here in LA. He sidestepped past a trio of hookers being hauled away by a uniformed officer and presented himself to the desk sergeant.

"Hunting licenses are in room 240. Upstairs and to the left. NEXT!"

"No, podna! I ain't here for no license. You see, I have an appointment with your Capitan - a Mr. Osbourne - for true."

"You have an appointment? With Captain Osbourne?"

"Yessiree, saa-gent. 'Course, 'fore I go on I'd be most happy if you'd point out where the cahbin might be."

Nonplussed, the sergeant stammered, "Uh, I'm sorry - what?"

"Yawr leetle boys room? Mais, I gotsa wash up 'fore I go to that meetin'. I been on the road for a day and a half and hadn't got even near a hosepipe! If'n I go in dere like this, yawr boss end up fremeers, for true!"

"Oh, uh - the restroom's right down that hall," the officer waved towards the right of the large entry room. He hoped desperately that his shift would end before this bumpkin came back. There was definitely enough dirt on the hick to keep him washing for a day at least. We don't normally get the crazy homeless guys this early. Geez, he smells like - what the hell is that?

"Merci beaucoup, mon ami. I shall be on back presently. You let Captain Osbourne know that Del Boudreaux is arrived!"

Love it Pierce! More stinky cajun please!

Looks like it'll be fun!

Intro 3

Captain Osbourne stood and stepped around the desk to greet the Cajun as the desk sergeant opened his office door. "You must be Del Boudreaux. I'm Jack Osbourne." As Boudreaux gripped his hand, the captain noted how rough the man's hands were. His palms feel like scales. "Come on in and have a seat and I'll fill you in. Robertson, that'll be all," Osbourne pushed the uniformed cop back out into the bullpen and closed the door. He perched up on the corner of his desk as Boudreaux sat heavily in a guest chair.

"I do so thank you mon Capitan. I may have been sittin' for the past two days, but a Harley ain't no Lay-Zee-Boy, for true. Most gracious of you."

"Don't mention it. Mr. Boudreaux, this is Chu Don Phat," Osbourne motioned towards a small Asian man standing against the wall. Boudreaux jumped a little; Osbourne realized that he hadn't seen the man standing there. Understandable - one's eyes tended to slide off Phat.

"Velly pleased to meet you, Mr. Boodlo," Phat's accent was thick as he executed a slight bow towards Boudreaux.

"Bonjour, Monsieur Phat. You done gave me da freesons, fuh shore!"

Geez, can't understand either one of them. Well, at least the Boudreaux guy is clean as far as my buddy down in New Orleans knows. Osbourne looked from one to the other, gathering his thoughts.

"Alright, gentlemen. You might be wondering why I've got both of you in here. Mr. Phat here just arrived here in LA yesterday. He's on loan from the Hong Kong PD temporarily to investigate a murder. HKPD believes the suspect - a fella named Wan Yung Gi - is now in the LA area. Mr. Boudreaux here," Osbourne turned to face Phat, "is a licensed bounty hunter from Louisiana. He called our department last week to try and track down a guy named Tyrone Givins. Givins broke out of the Louisiana State Penitentiary two weeks ago. Mr. Boudreaux has some indications that Givins has connections here in the city." Osbourne stood and made his way back behind his desk. "Meanwhile, we've been experiencing a rash of drug activity. There's a new drug showing up around - a highly processed opiate they call 'POO' on the streets. We-"

"Poo?" Boudreaux grinned dangerously. "Ain't dat another word for merde? De stuff that come out da end of a dawg?"

"Yep. Don't kids these days say the darndest things? It's short for Purified Optimized Opium. And now you know about as much as any of us."

"Wha's dat got ta do wit me and Mr. Chinois here?"

"Glad you asked, son. This Gi that Mr. Phat is looking for has connections to the Triad - China's answer to the Mafia. We're working under the assumption that the Triad is at least getting a taste of the POO on the import side of things. We speculate that Gi was brought over here either as extra local muscle of to get him out of Hong Kong."

Phat broke in, "If I may, Captain Osbourne?" The captain waved him on. "Yung Gi is known in Hong Kong as assassin. I have been trying to catch him for many year. He is man who kill my partner. I must catch Yung Gi. I will not leave without him, dead or alive. You understand?"

"Hey hey, shure I do! Mais, you don' worry none, podna. We sho nuf be catchin' this peunez, for true. As we say, lache pas la patate! Mais, but that's the work I do, ya know? So, mon capitan, what do dis here Young Guy fella an his kung-fu copain hafta do wit little ole me?"

On second thought, maybe Phat is easier to understand. Osbourne gamely forged ahead, "Givins has a sheet here, though it's short. Mainly drug lab work and we could never tag him with anything big. Got off with a little time, mostly probation. We know that he moves in a lot of the same circles as the people we suspect are involved in making Poo."

Boudreaux couldn't hold it anymore. He had been giggling every time Osbourne mentioned "Poo" but the last comment put him over the edge. The cajun threw his head back and guffawed. Even Phat was smirking. Osbourne turned beet red.

"Now listen here, dammit! You start doing that out on the street and somebody'll know you're a cop! Or at least not one of them! And these people will sure as sh*t turn your ass into gumbo or jambalaya or whatever it is you people cook down there!" Osbourne rounded on Phat, "Or damn egg foo young! So cut the horsesh-"

Osbroune stopped in mid-curse. A bright light was streaming in through the half open blinds on his office door. He bolted to the door and threw it wide.

"What the hell? WHO IN THE HELL LET A CAMERA CREW IN MY G*DDAMN PRECINCT!??!"

Thanks for the update, Pierce.