[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5EuKt8RndvQ]Opening Theme[/url]

Collin stepped out of his ramshackle apartment building, dressed in his usual jeans, t shirt and leather jacket. A faded baseball cap pulled low over his eyes, he bent his head down and cupped his palm, the sharp [i]*shick*[/i] of flint on steel and the sudden burst of orange glow against his skin as he held the flame to a cigarette in his mouth. He put the lighter in his pocket, gray smoke puffing out his nostrils into the dim street lights as he just stood for a moment surveying the coming and going of headlights and pedestrians. 

[color=662d91][b]“Hey buddy, can you spare a light?”[/b][/color] A voice to his left suddenly asked, making Collin turn and see a man in a ragged looking suit leaning against the wall of his building. Used to beggars and vagabonds asking for handouts, a simple light was no big deal, and Collin fished out his lighter and tossed it to the man, the metal glinting against the fluorescent glow of headlights as it spun through the air. The man caught it and deftly lit his own cigarette, and Collin took time to size him up. He was no older than any other bum he had met; his clothing told a story at first glance of someone recently out of work and looking for more. Still, the guy didn’t talk like a hobo. He was calm, confident, without the desperate stutter and pleading look in his eyes. He wasn’t that big either, didn’t have hand in his pocket around a gun and wasn’t leaning forward like he was about to swing. So Collin made the mental decision that the stranger did not pose an immediate threat. 

Nodding, handing back the lighter, the stranger puffed on his cigarette next to Collin for a few moments, both of them just silent and standing in the street. Then he spoke, [color=662d91][b]“I’m Tim Taggart, but you can just call me Tim,”[/b][/color] Collin nodded, not saying a word. He didn’t really feel like striking up a conversation with a complete stranger on the side of the road. Tim started to chuckle. [color=662d91][b]“I should’ve known you weren’t the social type Corporal McCreary.”[/b][/color]

At the mention of his name, and his old rank, Collin turned his head and looked at Tim Taggart with narrowed eyes, about to open up his mouth and ask just who the fuck this guy thought he was. Tim spoke first. [color=662d91][b]“Yes I know who you are McCreary, and know a lot more about you than just your name. A year in Boston, two in Neo-City, though I do find it amazing that no records exist of you actually [i]graduating[/i] any type of formal police training. I did find out you have a significant problem with authority figures. Worked you way up to Sergeant…twice I think wasn’t it? First time busted down to just a patrolie for punching your Department supervisor, second time down to Corporal for only the suspiciously vague citation of ‘excessive violence during questioning.’ Care to elaborate?”[/b][/color] Collin stood there, his mind reeling, not sure if he wanted to punch this Tim Taggart in the throat and leave him coughing in the gutter or hear him out. Tim just puffed on his cigarette again and shook his head. 

[color=662d91][b]“You know what? It doesn’t matter. The few other records I could actually dig out from my government connections are more than enough to cement your position on the team. Plus, you won’t have to worry about citations for ‘excessive violence’ anymore.” [/b][/color]Tim continued, ashing at his feet. Collin, took a drag on his own cigarette, his eyebrows rising a bit at the mention of a team. He finally got the chance to speak.

[color=39b54a][b]“What the fuck are you talking about old man?”[/b][/color]

Tim chuckled again, and pulled file out of his jacket, handing it to Collin. [color=662d91][b]“Everything you need to know is in here. Salary, job description, as well as a dossier of your teammates,”[/b][/color] at Collins glowering look from his final word Tim smiled. [color=662d91][b]"Yes McCreary, team mates. Non-negotiable. But before you immediately say no just take a look at the file. If you aren’t interested then so be it. If you are you’ll find instructions inside on where to be and when.”[/b][/color]

[hr]

Collin stepped out of the cab, sparking a cigarette as he walked down sidewalk. He had the driver drop him off a few blocks from the location, not wanting to get out right in front of the supposed headquarters to this mystery gig. He shouldered past people as he walked, ignoring the angry glances thrown over their shoulders at his back. He had looked at the file. Salary first, he didn’t want to waste his time on anything that wouldn’t be worth the trouble. Pay was decent, better than bouncing bars and clubs. The dossier concerned him. Only two names on the list had stuck out to him. Micheal Yancy was the first on the list, the only individual Collin actually knew remotely well. He and Yancy had partnered on a bust a long time ago, and after the department folded he saw the man from time to time drowning his sorrows over yet another empty bottle. Greg Kennedy he knew by reputation only, being one of the Riot guys in the force before the whole thing turned belly up. The other myriad names and histories on the list meant little to him. They didn’t have much experience outside of whatever had attracted Taggart, and Collin didn’t trust words on paper. The thought of working alongside other people irked him, and he had considered just tossing the whole file in the trash. Yet…here he was, standing outside the address given in the file. 

Collin just stood there looking at the door for a long time. He leaned against the window of a parked car, just looking at the beat up wooden door and smoking. He finished his cigarette, lit another, and when that one was done he finally pushed up off the car and walked up to the door. He knocked once, his baseball cap pulled over his eyes, hands in the pockets of his leather jacket when the door cracked open. Hobbes, or at least that’s what the name attached to the picture in his file said, opened the door. Before he could speak and welcome Collin in he stepped past the man and into the house. 

The place was a fucking mess. Empty take out containers, beer bottles, dozens of ashtrays filled with cigarette butts and ash. It smelled like a stale smokehouse. Collin felt right at home. He walked into the living room, heard the voices of other already gathered. He recognized all their faces from the files. Lee Allen, Jamie Packard, Krauss Helfer, and Lilly Martin were all there. He recognized Kennedy immediately. He was older than the last time they had met, which had just been in passing within the few times Collin was ever around the department. Collin rarely forgets a face. He did a quick mental count of people and made note of possible exits. It was an old habit that he had never been able to shake even all these years working civilian sector. 

Without saying anything, Collin took a seat on one of the stools by the kitchen counter. He pulled an already overflowing ashtray towards him and lit another cigarette, puffing the gray smoke into the air.

[color=39b54a][i]I hope this shit is worth it,[/i][/color] he mentally grumbled to himself as he took another heavy draw.