Case File Fragments 002 – The Gunman

By Christopher Green
 
SOURCE: POLICE INCIDENT REPORT FILED BY CADET MATT DELANEY.
TIMELINE: ANALYSTS BELIEVE THIS TO HAVE TAKEN PLACE SHORTLY AFTER SEASON 1.

“Drop the gun.” I ordered, assertively. I had intended to make an order today, but this was not it. When I rolled into the parking lot of the O’Donald’s Burger Hut, I only had a craving for a double bacon burger and some excessively salty fries. Now I was faced with an excessively salty citizen, with a gun.

“Where did you procure a firearm, sir?” I asked, attempting to disarm the perp mentally before I did so physically.

“How’s that the most important question right now, copper?” He spit back at me.

I wiped said spit off my badge. Can’t have a dirty uniform, even if the badge isn’t official, yet. I scanned the room for people in direct danger of the gunman, and exits the gunman could use to escape. Fortunately the poor construction of the Burger Hut, which I sincerely doubt is up to the New Dublin fire code, meant there was only one door in or out of the building, at least from the dining room. The gunman would have to go through three kitchen staff to get through the kitchen exit. And despite the rather laxed standards of the staff, I don’t think he would be able to get through them before I could tackle him. Of course, I knew that wouldn’t be ideal, I skipped arm day at the gym for the last… ever. I need to start working towards my peak physical form if I want to swap this badge for a real one.

“Sir, there is no need to threaten the staff here. I know their burgers are subpar—”

“Seriously man?” a staffer rudely interrupted, before I could finish.

“—but there are better ways to deal with your feedback for the establishment.” I finished, ignoring the staffer.

“You think this is about burgers, man? Man who even are you?” The gunman asked, his gun moving between me and the kitchen staff regularly.

“Matt Delaney, cadet.” I proudly stated.

“Cadet? You’re not even a real cop? I can’t wait to tell my boys what a joke this town is.” He laughed, apparently unimpressed with my status.

“Your boys in West Orlington won’t escape the long arm of the law anymore than you will ne’er-do-well!” I asserted, as calmly as I could.

“What makes you think I’m from the big W?” He asked, his neanderthal mind barely able to keep up with my skills of observation.

“Your West Orlington Fitness Club tank top! How are their rates by the way? I’m in the market for a new gym.”

BANG! Suddenly his gun fired off in my direction, and the gunman fell to the floor, clutching his right hand, which was bathed in red. “I’ve been shot!” He yelled.

“You shot the gunman!? I didn’t even know you had a gun man!” One staffer exclaimed. I smirked to myself at his use of ‘gunman’ and ‘gun man’ in the same sentence, but kept it to myself. Well, myself and you, evidently.

“No gun needed, citizen.” I replied. “I could tell he was getting agitated, so I threw that ketchup bottle at his gun hand just in time. That bullet did your menu board no favours though. Phone the NDPD for me.”

I stooped down to check on the perp, and see to it that he wasn’t too badly injured. His hand was fine. The ketchup bottle, however, was irredeemable. For the best. I prefer Burger Hut’s plum sauce myself.

“Who even are you, man?” He asked, as if my earlier answer had not sufficiently covered the question.

I puffed out my chest, proud of our local policing initiatives. “I’m Matt, Matt Delaney and you’re coming with me to the station. Now,” I continued, “Tell me more about the rates at your gym.”

THE END

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