NukeSilo Community

Hit and Run
An In-Character Depiction of Murder; as always, the Police may use the EVIDENCE of this crime(I will list below for convenience), but it's mere depiction is not a realization of guilt to every Law Enforcement Officer in the City.

Arthur Templeton crossed the street, glancing both ways in the darkness, not a headlight to be seen; adjusting his tie, he moved across the white lines, briefcase in hand. Suddenly, the sound of screeching tires caught his attention, and a speeding sport's car barreled down a turn at a reckless rate; the headlights closed in on him, and he threw up a hand in surprise as he was rammed with the full force, flung to the side of the road with a bone-crunching sound.

Rolling into the gutter, the wind knocked from his body, the pain not yet registering, Arthur groaned, staring up at the bumper of the now-stopped car. Realizing what had happened, the driver sped off the down the road, careless to what had just taken place; as Templeton stared off through broken glasses, he made out only the general aspects. It was a red sports car, with white stripes.

"God da*nit!" Templeton bellowed, clutching his knee; the pain was just now starting to feel evident, and his leg was terribly disjointed, his ribs bruised or broken. "That son-of-a-bitch..."

Limping to his feet, he bit his lip to keep from screaming; he kept his mind focused, only adrenaline and fury quelled his pain. Red sports car, white stripes, he repeated to himself silently. Easy enough to find, in a shithole like this.

~

He had found the car, parked outside by a local pub, just a few quick turns from where he had been hit. The bumper was a little rickety, and the right-front headlight was bashed out. Limping into the bushes, Templeton grimaced and sat down on the mulch, obscured by darkness. Opening his briefcase, he pulled out a holster, a snubnose .357 Magnum revolver tucked inside. Testing the grip, he fitted it onto his person, tucking it under his coat. He popped the broken lense out of his glasses, and fitted them back on.

Walking down the street across the from the pub, a man in a red jacket and matching hat stepped into the car, his bright colors of red were like an insult to an injured bull. Hobbling out from the bushes, Templeton tapped the top of the car with the bottom of a closed fist, jarring the driver's attention.

"This is your car, isn't it?" he asked roughly; it was a stupid question, but he might as well have asked it.

"Yeah."

Templeton removed the revolver from it's holster, jamming it in through the open passenger-side window. "Mind the speed-limits!"

Cocking the hammer back, Templeton squinted his left eye-lid shut, getting a bead on the driver's surprised face with his dominant eye on the unbroken side of his glasses. With a sharp pop, a bullet scraped through the side of the man's head, stunning him. Two follow-up shots came shortly after, one blowing an eye clear out of the socket, the next busting a hole in the driver's forehead that left an exit wound the size of a baseball. Brains splattered the interior of the car, and the dead man slumped down on his seatbelt.

Holstering his smoking weapon, Templeton limped back to his briefcase, grabbed it, and hobbled down the alleyway, as pedestrians began to poke their heads out of the pub to see what had happened. Past his grimace, the injured man smirked a little, the aroma of gunsmoke appeasing his inner demons for at least another couple of hours.

(Evidence: For the convenience of any nosey cops out there.

1 dead man, in a Striped Red Sports Car
{3 Gunshot wounds; 1 non-lethal, graze to the head. 2 possible killshots, left eye, forehead. .357 Magnum}
Disturbed Ground beside the Pub, remnants of expensive British shoe-polish on the curb next to the car.
Popped fragments of prescription eye-glass materials, too shattered to postively ID, near disturbed ground.
Witness Report; medium-height man, in a dark coat. Unknown age, ethinicity, descript build. {Of little help.} )

_________________
~They're gonna hang me in the mornin', before the night is done,
They're gonna hang me in the mornin', and I'll never see the sun.~

Officer Kipper inspected the crime scene. The detectives had found british shoe polish, so he suspected an englishman. Kipper pulled out his phone and dialed for Sherlock Holmes...

After the call he asked witnesses but they didn't see anything, as usual. Wake zipped the body into the bag, cleaned the inside of the car, and drove it to the carwash so he could later sell it.

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Wake Kipper - Nuke City Deputy Police Commissioner