My name is Nick Kang; I used to be a regular cop. I play the game, my way. Control my movements my way.  I do not take lightly to being controlled and I’ll prove it. Anytime, anywhere.

I have skills, oh yes I do. I always say that my Kung Fu is better. And I’ll prove that too, anytime, anywhere.

The Streets of Los Angeles are mine, ours if you dare to ride with me. But I work alone. I have this control thing, don’t like it.

I like to get in scrapes, lurk around in the shadows. I said I like it, never said I was good at it. But patience is a virtue in my racket.

Ah, the racket, Special Forces, Elite Operations Division or EOD for you abbreviation freaks.  We due the dirty work the regular Joe’s can’t manage. We do it, just not well. Have yet to apologize to Rosie for that slug I put in her arm, my bad.

That Rosie, cute kid. She doesn’t like to work with other people either, especially those named Nick, and the name being on the badge I again carry. We had dinner once, “have some Chinese” the Chief said. One thing lead to another, a fight broke out, I lost my cool, and I shot Rosie.

Your head isn’t on strait pal, drop to conclusions then, like I care. But it happened like this……. This Yakuza, Triad, tattooed, motherless fuck came into the joint and in plain site, of plain clothes, tries to rob the place. Then, one thing leads to another; my hormones kick, and I clean the place with this guys face. He leaves, end of level.

Oh yea Rosie’s slug. So, ok it isn’t the end, the punks waiting out side and makes a shield of Rosie. I guess I saw a movie once, plagiarized it for my own bennies and shot the hostage.

Just a Nick, from Nick, happy ending, Rosie gets a desk job and I get to work alone, again. Somebody’s pushing me around though and I don’t like it. But I have my ways, turn left and just maybe I’ll go right. It’s that control thing, I don’t like it. 

Being a bad cop is a lot more fun

Well shit ain’t it though? We’ll just take down the perp the hard way. Well hard for him, but that’s the fun. Got to watch these perps though, oh they’ll turn on you. They are all “I give up, officer” and then you’re doing a war dance at two feet with nines in your face. And I was hoping to take him in quietly, get some answers, that type of thing. It is always the hard way with these guys.

They have this leader, some AI type guy, and cheats like a bitch on a cheap date. In this town you’re saying what the fuck before breakfast. We’re all just players in this game of life, and sometimes, it sucks.  

The plot ain’t so bad 

I know it’s me, oh I know it. The action always just out of eyesight. I have vertigo, tunnel vision; I have to move in order to see. And I am direction intolerant. Ah, but enough about me reader. Who am I kidding, let me just say the magic words, “joy ride” and I’ll go cruising all by myself, oh yes, yes I will. Who needs you, you don’t control me.

Anyway, I’m back behind a badge and not a desk. Sorry Rosie maybe someday I’ll actually say it. The Triad though are working in this town and got my under garments in a quarter cinch. Yea, a knot, you just have no sense of humor or metaphoric vision do you?

So now I need answers, push comes to shove, I suck on easy and get a “go to next level free card”. Nice touch that. Ok, so no where in my play book does it say that, but who’s telling this story?!

Like my mystical magical, wise, master once said, “Game no good with idle hands”. You tell me what the hell he meant, because I haven’t a clue. He mentions something about a “stick”, never could quite get what he meant. Just call them dramatic pauses I guess. They are long enough to get a coffee sport. So do that.    

Mean While 

This isn’t a bad a story really. I once heard about a guy named Snake. No wait, it wasn’t Snake, but some blond haired waif called, Roidin, Raydin, hemorrhoid, who cares, Sons of Liberty sucks on ice. Oh well, let us continue with my story. Stay tuned though it gets just as silly.

EOD fingers me as a fool that can get into the Triad territory, mess things up with a mountain of paperwork and an “I have no idea what you are talking about” to the press. I love my job when I can just shoot the crap out of a room and those in it. It just solves problems when bad guys can’t talk.  

Oh they do, but unlike that convoluted story that Snake tells over crumpets, these guys make sense. I over heard before I had to shoot them about extortion. Well now we are getting somewhere.

Small Time

Before this blessed firefight, I suck on easy remember, I passed on a nice lead in. I really shouldn’t do that. It causes problems with continuity. Anyway went to see Jimmy, a small time racketeer in LA.

Followed my leads backwards. Tailing Limo, follow lead to Jimmy's warehouse and so on. End at a spa?

Intel is Intel, better when it’s good. Follow a lead to a spa. Cloak and dagger is ok, stealth, snap some necks, ok, but I like fists of fury. Got the chance to show my Kung Fu skills on some punks at the spa that thought they had the jump on o’le Nick. I showed them a style or two. Now I like fists of fury, but prefer a gun in each one. After getting a healthy lift from some light duty, I proceed further into this den of inequity where that firefight ensues, oh déjà vu set in. I did prevail but for some reason it seems I did this a number of times. Out of some perverse enjoyment?

The spa nets the idea that there are more guests at this party than originally thought. The Triad and the Russian Mafia playing up each other. There's always a third. But who has come uninvited. A General I hear?

Got some information lurking in the shadows about an extortion racket, laundered money, took some pictures then made some noise about being a cop. Sometimes I think I do this on purpose just to rile a perp to shoot at me, you know, probable cause. I never said I was a good cop. No wait maybe I did, but you and your syntax problems got that idea all wrong.

“Man who peed in your coffee” 

The FBI always sticks a nose in and you know they just do not have a sense of humor. Masterson’s the badge behind the eye this time.  He’s a bald freak, the sun glasses, the whole cliché. In bed with internal affairs I bet should I get out of line. Just another fly on my wall.

There was a show girl

Rosie gave me a tip to check out. Since it was a strip club I was only happy to. Questions I had, answers these girls didn’t want to give, but I told them my Kung Fu was better than theirs. They saw this to be true, and gave me a name to go on. Gypsy, one of my opponents that could still talk gave it to me.   

It has to be by coincidence that her name is Lola. She did have a reality show that she took on the road and decided to make real. I don’t know what a once show girl bank robber has to do with the Triad, but we shall see. Next stop "The Spot". I like the sound of that. I am fighting the internal struggle to start singing badly. Damn, I know "I write the songs", thanks Barry.

Ok, songs over, Lola's a bitch that needs to go down and get some. I mean some hurt, what's on your mind there sport? I show her some moves, behind the wheel and in her face. It didn't occur to me that the regulars around here would frown on our little ride around, they did. Also didn't occur to me until after much trial and error, shoot out a TIRE!

Now a little, no song here, just dance. After fighting the strippers, well now I know who their teacher was. Of course she went down, went down hard, in fact she did bring it, and made it difficult on me. She fights with style that needs space best defense, don't give her any. I prevail of course. But I do, at this point have a question. What is with these freaking snipers and who is setting me UP! At any rate Triad, laundered money, and the Russian Mafia. Greed kills, I wondered how far they would go to get it back. I didn't have to wonder far. 

I like answers, even the hard way

Loose pieces fit together, greed kills, and now we find ourselves at a bank. Funny place to wash laundered money. When I get on the scene Masterson has control of the situation. So he said. Rosie is on the scene as well. So much for a desk job when the FBI needs another gun. Tells me the plot so far as I already know it. Sure I write the script and he tells me the plot. After the fact. Go figure. 

Who led who to what? Triad, leads to Russian Mafia who had hired an ex show girl to drive for a bank heist. So far ok. But then things always do get spoiled with too many cooks. Someone gets greedy and then someone gets mad.

None the less, why is it that a bank job always ends up with a hostage crisis? Always the hard way with these guys, and getting into the bank was no picnic either. I did mention that these were Asian commandos didn’t I? Answers, the question of who was who and what he does. Just take over a bank.

Well onto bigger, better, and just more bad things. Well I over took the commandos at the door, so I have to suppose they are saving the best for the very last, all this just for a bank job? Well not really, in finality it turns out to be a bank job. It all comes down to a tired cliché, "where's my money".

Oh, yeah, more commandos inside the bank of course. Just remember my right is your left, strange me telling you that, like it matters or something. Well I made it through the thugs here, nicely placed medicine cabinets helped too. Bang shoot, two fists of fury wrapped around a couple of Colts. Ah, but more fun awaits.

Now about this Korean General that is all the rage, and causing such a ruckus, he’s a good fighter. He is going to kill me a few times over before I figure out a strategy to clean his clock before he cleans mine. Other than coming out screaming, punching and kicking like a little girl, I got nothing. In the mean time this Kim guy will knock me down, do a little dance and here I sit, with idle hands. My master would be proud.

My master always said, never underestimate your opponent, and learn his weakness. Yea, I pretty much knew how things were going to go when he threw me out the window. Weakness! To find that I need an opening first and this little weasel is having none of that. Well here we are, on top of the bank on the helipad. Unlike Lola, Kim needs space, little tiger likes to get cozy.

Isn’t it always the way, you crawl to the top only to find another little problem. Accept this little problem fights back. It would be so much better to just blast him, stupid codes of conduct, history, and tradition. Well you can’t throw away a thousand years.

I just want to toss this little problem off the roof, he’s proven he can toss; I call “my turn”. In the game of life it pays to go off the beaten path and just train a little. I didn't.

Kim did fall off the roof, finally, but it wasn’t my fault, it was an accident. In the scuffle we busted a railing and he just chose that one to lean against. End of his life and the end of this chapter. But there is more to it. A detective’s work is never done. 

We find a pinky at a crime scene and ponder over a thousand dumps "Who’d that freaking pinky belong too?"

And you know, we never get the girl.