{Hat trick}
<2333Local, May Seventeenth, Fallout Year Seventeen [2037 Anno Domani]>
<"Daddy would be so proud,"> resounded in one man's wireless headset, supposedly connected to his cell phone, and he breathed a sigh of relief. "Finally, Goddess, man, what took you so long?" He groaned as he slithered throught he crowd toward the caution tape, and a police officer holding the perimeter to wait for the Spec Weapons team to arrive so they could storm the place. A part of every onlooker was wondering why it wasn't the Spec Weapons team that responded to a call in the Red Sector, anyway. Most honest cops were too afraid to hear the calls for such areas, and devloped strange and persitent cases of deafness whenever a disturbance in these sectors were announced. the Department's Medical staff was "looking into it".
The man approached the nearest officer and asked, as if he were any other civilian, what was going on.
The cop, one Sergant Jenkins, gave the civilan a once-over. In another time, in another place, sunglasses at night, a buttoned-up trenchcoat and fatigues with the Army's old ACU pattern may have been suspicious, but not now, not here. Night drew out the worst crowds, and the man was probably hiding illegal cybernetic modifications. The white fedora was kind of funny, though, considering the rest of the mans wardrobe consited of darker colors. There was something about the hat that Sergant Jenkins felt was important, but couldn't quite put his finger on. And so, he gave the man a scripted answer which required no thought or tact to deliver.
"Theres a criminal inside, we're bringing him in,"
The mouth under the sunglasses twisted into a kind of cruel facsimile of a smirk.
"There are criminals everywhere, and we don't appreciate Heros in our Sectors."
For a second, the Sergant ignored the man, then his eyes widened with a sudden shock of realization. The man said "we". The hat suddenly made sense now. Jenkins reached for his sidearm for the first time since the academy. Those weren't sunglasses hiding illegal eyes. Those were his eyes. And the fedora pieced it all together.
"Hat Trick" the man said through a grin, as both his fists slammed into the poor Sergant's abdomen, immediatly relasing the claws he had implanted into his system, which also immediatly injected a surprisingly potent, and doubly efficent, neruoposion into the officer's bloodstream.
Sergant Jenkins hit the damp asphalt, and the criminal retracted his claws as naturally as zipping his fly. The civilans around them shouted a myriad of interjections denoting surprise and filled the air with a wonderful set of screams. As soon as the fear hit the civilians, two flashes of lights erupted from the doorway to the gym, and another police officer found his way to whatever afterlife he desired, only this one went with his skull fragemented into an innumerable amount of pieces.
