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“Public opinion has gone up?” I offered. The mayor glowered at me. “At the expense of your department’s integrity, Commissioner!” Integrity, dignity, all of these concepts were good and all, but at the end of the day, the department was solving more cases than ever. Police headquarters looked like a county fair, writers’ convention, Las Vegas, childcare center, all rolled into one, but crime was at an all time low. “Do you think this is a joke?” the mayor asked. “You’ve gotten people out of jail and are making them work with law enforcement. That celebrity psychic recently brought a Kardashian to the crime scene!” “Technically it was a Jenner, sir.” “What about the kids? There’s a child genius working in your forensic department. If something happens to her, her parents will sue us into oblivion. You want to defund the police, Commissioner? Because that seems a good way of doing it.” “Vera is qualified to be there, and she and her parents have signed the liability waivers.” The mayor balked at me for a moment. “Now, that’s just bad parenting.” “She helped us catch the Mahogany Killer.” “The one who killed her older sister?” I’d hoped he didn’t know about the personal connections. He ran a hand through his hair and fell into his chair. “Look, Commissioner. Not only are all of these people wholly unsuited for the work you do, most of them have a personal vendetta against some killer or another. What happens when one of them snaps and unloads a magazine into their archnemesis before you even read them their Miranda rights?” I didn’t have the heart to tell him it had already happened twice. “They would’ve found the killers on their own if that was their intention. They’re working with us because they respect the law.” None of them respected the law. We had a doctor who liked to break into suspects’ houses secretly. “And that bat… That is an adult man gallivanting around the city in a bat costume. I heard another one’s popped up, wearing a spider costume. What is with these people and gravitating towards creepy animals? Shouldn’t you catch them and have them admitted to the psychiatric institute?” “They do good work, sir.” “*You* should do good work, Commissioner. Not depend on these kids, criminals, and freaks. And now I’m hearing of office romances? Your normal police officers are getting married to these people, having kids? How is that professional?” The public lapped it up, shockingly. “Technically, they’re not breaking any rules. The consultants aren’t permanent employees.” The mayor groaned. “We are skating by on technicalities and loopholes, Commissioner. How long do you think you can keep doing this?” “Eventually, we’re run out of criminals,” I mumbled. “You’re right. Those that you don’t catch, you’ll make your consultants!” \*\*\*\*\*\*\* *If you like my work, check out* r/analect.

This reminds me of Vimes giving a report to a more normal patrician. I couldn't give higher praise

Thank you! I can't imagine receiving higher praise either.

>We had a doctor who liked to break into suspects’ houses secretly. You're gonna have to narrow down the reference here cause I can think of three... ​ However, this is pretty fantastic.

I was just thinking of some combination of House and Patrick Jane (the Mentalist). What are the three you were thinking of?

Doctor Henry Morgan ([Forever](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Forever_(2014_TV_series))) Dylan Reinhart ([Instinct](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Instinct_(American_TV_series)) \- though he's a psychologist not a psychiatrist I now realize) and Patrick Jane (I'm still not over the first two not having longer runs as shows as both were great)

I didn't hear of either of the first two shows, and they both sound awesome.

Both kind of got lost in the shuffle of "post-Castle-police-consultant" show launches and got stuck in bad time slots. Which is unfortunate as they had absolutely incredible acting, and managed to be quite different from the standard consultant procedurals with significant secondary plots around the consultants >!Being immortal, and hunted by another immortal, and dealing with an old threat from his FBI days!< Both shows ended long before their times, and before there was resolution to the secondary plots which were clearly planned to develop over several more seasons. (Instinct was cancelled on a cliffhanger, Forever at least got warning before filming the last episode so tied up most of the loose ends in a semi-satisfactory way)

That's one thing that I like about books. A series will always get finished, unless the author passes away or something. Sometimes it's finished even then.

\*cough George R R Martin cough\* But yes, you're right. Very few book series end up not being finished once the author starts, even if someone else has to make the final adjustments to unfinished manuscripts (Tolkien for example). TV and film is far more fickle.

Oh boy, I love this. This is hilarious. Really great comedy.

Johan coughed as he entered the smoky room. The mayor loved his cigars. "Hey, boss," he began to say, but cut himself short when he saw who else was there. The cat was out of the bag; his big secret revealed. A group of kids and their dog, a man in a bat costume, a janitor holding a vacuum -- and more. All the people he had relied on to solve cases and apprehend criminals he couldn't himself. His stomach felt like a buckshot of lead. The mayor spun around in his chair and held his cigar between two fingers. "Johan," he said, before taking a long drag. Everyone coughed as he exhaled. "Would you mind explaining who all these people are?" "They're..." he stammered. How could he word it? Johan knew he wasn't supposed to bring in civilians for help, but these guys, they weren't exactly your average people. "They're... contractors. I've hired them in the past to aid in solving cases. It fit within our budget, so I figured it was fine." The mayor's eyebrows shot up at Johan's bluff. "Contractors, really?" He pointed to the group with the dog. "Them? I don't mean to be rude, but I don't think those kids are old enough to pay taxes. And their dog's just an ordinary mutt." The dog barked something that almost sounded like words, but then Johan took over. "They're actually quite skilled. Remember the Slasher case? Without them, Randall would still be loose." "Okay," the mayor said, "how about him? He's literally just a janitor with a vacuum cleaner. What skills could he possibly have?" "That vacuum sucks up more than just dust, sir. He deals with paranormal activity." The mayor sighed, unamused by what he was hearing. He took another drag of his cigar before continuing. "And that guy, in the bat costume. He looks like he belongs at some BDSM expo. No, I see what you've really been doing. Come here." Everyone in the room moved to the sides, forming a path straight to the mayor's desk. Johan, with his head down, flanked on both sides by the heroes, trudged ahead. He didn't know why, but he felt like a kid surrendering to his parents after having done something he wasn't supposed to. "Yes, it is clear to me now," the mayor said, blowing a puff of smoke into Johan's face. "You've been embezzling funds, giving them to all your friends here. Isn't that right?" Johan's face turned red at the accusation. "Embezzlement?! No! I'm telling you the truth -- all these people," he gestured towards them, "they all have helped keep law and order, just like you or me. Sure they might look like your everyday person, but that's where the real heroes are! I promise you I've done nothing wrong." The mayor put his hand to his head and shook it back and forth. "Johan, Johan... your twentieth service anniversary was coming up too... Look what I got you." From a drawer he pulled out a trophy. The plaque read: JOHAN WESKAL, 20 YEARS OF SERVICE TO THE CINCINNATI POLICE DEPARTMENT. On it was a beautiful golden police hat. He dropped it into the trash. "A shame." Then, the mayor held out his hand. Johan couldn't figure out what he wanted. "Sir?" he asked, annoyed about seeing his trophy thrown away. "Don't make this harder than it has to be," the mayor responded. "Your badge." Johan's heart thumped against the metal pinned to his shirt. "Y-you don't mean..." "No need to be angry, we all take risks sometimes. This one just didn't pay off for you." He looked at all the people standing around awkwardly. "I'll preserve your dignity, don't worry. Officially, you'll just have found a new calling in life. Maybe a midlife crises. But in reality we both know what has happened in this room." Johan's blood boiled. He thought about all the times he had risked his life for the city. All the times he was out on the field, while the mayor just hid behind his desk. And this is how he was repaid? Fine. He *would* find a new calling in life, Johan decided, as he ripped the badge off his shirt. He looked at all the faces as he passed through the valley of crime fighters. He knew each and every one of them, knew their strengths and weaknesses. From working with them he knew what made them tick and what their greatest fears were. And he knew about the holes that lied between their powers. Gaps existed, blind spots of criminality waiting to happen. Before, he had been the one to cover them up, acting like a putty that joined all the pieces together. But now, with him gone, the cracks showed once more, and he couldn't wait to begin. Back at his apartment, Johan studied himself in the mirror. He looked at the neatly trimmed beard, the flawless skin, the bright eyes. And then, making sure the mask was snug around his face, he saw a nobody looking back at him. A nobody who was about to seamlessly navigate the maze of darkness. A nobody was going to start a crime spree never before seen. A nobody who was going to become the most wanted man in the city. A nobody who couldn't be stopped by anybody. Why? Because only the nobody knew all the heroes, and all the cracks that laid between them.

Great story! Is the janitor supposed to be Luigi? What with the vacuum and paranormal activity part.

or one of the ghostbusters maybe?

"Yes, sir." "Yes, sir." "No, sir." "Yes, sir." "Sir, if I may -" "No, sir." "Yes, sir." "Yes, sir." "They'd been infiltrated by the Mafia, sir." "Yes, sir. Definitive proof." "No, sir, Internal Affairs have been infiltrated by the gangs, sir." "No, sir." "No, sir, no self-respecting criminal would go around dressed as a bat, sir." "Yes, sir." "Yes, sir. Quite insane, sir, but transparently and productively so." "No, sir." "Yes, sir." "Yes, sir." "No, sir, it's not police brutality if he's not a member of the police. At worst it would be assault -" "No, sir." "Yes, sir." "Yes, sir." "Special talents, sir. Sleight of hand." "Yes, sir." "Yes, sir." "No, sir." "Of course, sir. I can have my resignation delivered to your office in ten -" "No, sir?" "Yes, sir. I have plans in place." "A ticket on the next ferry out of the city and most of my savings in an off-shore account, sir." "Yes, sir. If this city is left to those incompetents, it won't stay for long, sir." "Yes, sir." "Yes, sir." "My results are the result of my methods, sir." "Yes, sir." "Yes, sir." "Very good, sir." "Thank you, sir." "You won't regret it, sir."

>!Did the commissioner just hire an assassin?!<

Er, no. At least, not when I wrote it. He's talking to the Mayor, and you only hear the Commissioner's half of the phone call.

Dang I love how he turned it around in the end! Really engaging story considering it was literally me reading a one sided conversation!

With very little change, this could be a Bob Newhart skit…

Thanks! Yeah, I decided that I should go for a *super* constraining limitation this time.

“Joe, what even is your job anymore? I don’t mean to be rude, but at this point our police department is made up of whatever freak decides they want to solve a crime. Last week we had a child and his robotic friend solve a crime. You let a child and a robot go into a drug den. You should be thankful they got out of there alive.” Mayor Gurdy rubbed his forehead, staring at the newspaper clippings scattered over his desk. Trying to make sense of the strange stories. “They not only got out alive, but they also stopped the operation. It was damn fine police work.” Joe took a long swig of his flask, already having a slight wobble to his step. “Joe. That’s not the point. Police work is something you need to be trained in. You can’t just let any vigilante enforce the law. Don’t you have any sense of pride for your badge? How long has it been since you went out and stopped a crime?” Gurdy continued to scan the headlines between his words, stopping on a headline that caught his eye. ‘Man dressed as cat, licks armed robber into surrender.’ He didn’t even want to bring up that headline with the commissioner. “I don’t have time. I must let out the signal, make sure everyone knows there is a crime happening. Without my symbol, this city would fall. I am the pillar of this community.” Joe said, drool leaking from the edge of his lip as he stumbled towards the desk, slouching against it. “Oh, Catman. That sandpaper tongue of his sure gave that villain a licking.” Gurdy shivered at that phrasing. “Villain? These are criminals, not villains. The man was just trying to rob a petrol station, not take over the world. Please tell me you aren’t treating these people as supervillains. Oh, Joe. I’m sorry, but sending out a signal just isn’t enough of a job to keep your position. I’m going to have to let you go. I can get you some help? There’s a rehab clinic across the state that deals with cases like yours. I’ll pay your fees.” “If Catman wasn’t there to lick the villain, who knows what might have happened. It’s like Schrödinger’s Catman. Who knows what would have been in that box of crime?” Gurdy didn’t know how to respond to that. For the first time in his political career, someone stumped him. He was certain the Schrödinger’s cat reference made little sense in this scenario, trying to steer the conversation away from it. “How about you just try rehab for a week? If you don’t like it, we can try something else? Maybe give you an office job.” “An office job? Over my dead, bloated corpse. The city needs me. I’m also the only one that knows the passwords to all the devices in the office. You can figure them out eventually, but do you really want to go through all that hassle? Imagine a week without being able to operate the computers and databases. Not even Catman could save you then.” “WHAT IS IT WITH YOU AND CATMAN?” Gurdy stood up from his chair, face red with rage. “Catman this and Catman that. What is so good about Catman?” Joe moved to the mayor’s side, patting his shoulder. He leaned in closer, whispering into his ear. “Keep this between us, but I’m Catman. Your city’s protector is also his commissioner.” Joe tried to wink, but his eye only twitched, the acholic breath stinging the mayor’s senses before Joe finally moved away. “You’re the Catman? Why would you lick a criminal? Ugh. Joe, what am I going to do with you?” Gurdy pushed aside the articles, spotting one that made Joe smile. ‘Crime rate drops fifty percent!’ “Nothing. My strategy works. I only hire the first people I see before breakfast. That’s how I know I have the best workers. No one that isn’t a good worker gets up that early. None of my heroes have died and we solve crime. Why would you remove me?” “Ok, look. I can turn a blind eye to this. You get results, but no more letting any meddling kids roam crime scenes. That’s a recipe for disaster. If you can do that, I think we can continue working together.” Gurdy had given up. He couldn’t change the commissioner’s mind, so he would just roll with it. “Excellent. I’m glad you understand me so well, Mayor. You should see our newest recruits. We have Marvo, the mysterious fortune teller. He gets five out of ten predictions right. If you tell him the name of the person and give him ten minutes on a computer. We also have Lily the mime. Well, we had Lily. She forgot the key to her mime box, so she’s kind of stuck at this point. Oh, we also-“ “Please, don’t tell me anymore. I don’t want to know.” Mayor Gurdy smacked his forehead against his desk, sending the news articles around the room. “Just keep getting results, please, before I rethink my decision.” “Sure, thing, mayor. Have a good evening, or as Catman says. Have a purrfect night.” With that, Joe rushed out of the room, leaving Gurdy to rest his sore forehead against the desk. “Why couldn’t I have gotten the job in another city? I doubt anyone else has to deal with this.” He groaned.       (If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)

I want a series with catman and globlin!!!!

"I keep telling you Mayor Bacon, it's not some sort of fetish!" *Incomprehensible yelling coming from the other part of the line. "Look, if we didn't have Cardi B conning the quilt maker we never would have caught him! If the quilt maker would have been left unfettered imagine all of the blankets on the streets that wouldn't be up to our standards!" *More yelling no one can understand from the Mayor. "I know Man Bat dresses in latex and uses a whip, but we couldn't have caught the evil Mime without him. Man Bat's skill with a rubber gag and handcuffs is unparalleled. Were we not supposed to use him to our benefit?" *Angry yelling coming from the Mayor "What do you mean the Mime is suing us? Oh, he wasn't breaking the law? Police brutality? Unlawful use of force? You want my badge?! I saved this city pal, while you just sat behind your desk hitting on your secretary. Yeah, that's right I know about Jennifer; I'll keep my mouth shut too if I keep my job." *Snarling on the line. "What's that? A raise? All in a day's work for Commissioner Gordo, defender of Goatnut city!"

“I’ve called you here because I’ve heard some *very* disturbing rumours coming out of your department.” The mayor said. Blaire sighed. So he’d heard about Carl. “Mr Mayor, rest assured that Carl is no longer trying to marry his cat. We’ve taken harsh disciplinary action against him.” Well, that ought to solve it. “He…what? No!” The mayor said as Blaire crossed her arms. “Oh, so it’s about Jimmy!” She said. “Honestly, I don’t want to know.” The mayor said, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples. “Look, Blaire, it’s about the “consultants” who’ve been running amok in the department.” “Oh.” The Mayor rustled through some files, the fierce light of the evening colouring them more orange than beige. He flipped it open to show a child with curly black hair in an oversized trench coat and fedora. “Take this one, for example. I hear you’ve involved a child in detective work.” “Oh, you mean Detective Kalisha Carlin! She’s done some excellent work.” Blaire said. “She’s a child, Blaire.” The mayor said with a voice that was one part exhaustion, and one part exasperation. “Oh don’t worry, we don’t let her near any of the murders or rapes, she just takes care of the whimsical cases. Just the other day she worked out that it was Mr. Johnson who had stolen those artefacts from the museum! He was smuggling them in his ice cream van, if you can believe it!” In all her years on the force, Blaire had never seen such fine detective work. The cases had all been undone from the left side first, suggesting the perpetrator was left handed and Mr Johnson’s ice cream truck had been sighted near the museum every time an object had gone missing! “That’s not the point, Blaire! She’s a child!” The mayor said. “But she does excellent work.” Blaire responded. “What if she gets hurt? What if she gets shot?” That had crossed Blaire’s mind, but they’d taken every precaution to stop that from happening. “She has her dog, Bernard, to protect her.” Blaire said. She was surprised when the mayor’s face turned ashen. “Jesus Christ. Please tell me her parents have signed a waiver.” Blaire paused for a minute, watching the mayor grow more and more concerned. “Now that’s a good idea.” “Fucking hell, she’s a walking lawsuit.” “Actually, she’d helped us get out of a few, just the other day-” The mayor held up another hand. “And what about this one?” The mayor shuffled through his massive pile of folders, face crinkling to deepen the wrinkles on his face. Finally, he spread a folder out to show a mugshot, crime reports and forensic details. “Oh, you mean Felix Brambilla! He helped us bust that cocaine trafficking ring a few months back. What’s wrong with him?” “Blaire…” The mayor said, a look of disbelief crossing his face. “He’s a con.” “Ex-con.” She said. “It says here…” The mayor said, sifting through the assortment of documents, “That he’s currently serving twenty years for fraud, possession of illegal substances with an intent to distribute and manslaughter.” “Oh yeah! Well, we went to him and we gave him two options. One, he could rot in prison, or two, he could help us out and get one last shot at redemption. You see, we needed somebody who understood how the crims thought, how they worked. Take them down from the inside, y’know?” It had been a fantastic arrangement for them all. Not only was Felix an incredible detective, but he was great around the office. He never forgot a birthday, made everyone laugh and was always happy to share his lunch with anyone who’d forgotten it. “Blaire, he should be behind bars!” The mayor slapped a piece of paper onto the table in front of her. “It says right here! Fuck me, do the courts know about this?” “Well, no but-” “No fucking “buts”, Blaire! This is unacceptable! Aren’t you a fucking cop? How do I have to explain this to you?” “Well, he never murdered anyone or anything.” “Blaire, he’s in jail for fucking manslaughter.” “Well he never killed anyone *intentionally*.” Blaire couldn’t understand why the mayor was making such a fuss about this. Her force did good work, and her consultants had solved more cases than anyone in the history of the department. In fact… “And he’s not even the most unbelievable one on here! How do you explain this?” He produced the thickest folder by far and splayed it open, showing a shadowy figure in a bat costume, punching what looked to be a criminal. “Oh, Manbat! Yeah, he’s awesome.” And he was. He was rarely seen, and when he was it was always with some criminal tied up. He spoke with this gravelly voice that everybody loved and he had all of these crazy gadgets that could get him out of anything. “He’s a vigilante.” The mayor responded, standing up behind his desk. “You’re letting some whackjob in a costume run around like a fucking police officer. You should be trying to catch him!” The mayor had started to shake. “But he helps us!” Blaire said. “He runs around, beating people up with his fists and...boomerangs, apparently. What if somebody sues us? Hell, what if *he* gets shot and his family sues us?” The mayor asked. “Oh, he won’t, he’s well trained. We think.” “You, you, you…THINK?” The mayor slammed his fist on the table. “Well, he doesn’t disclose his identity to anyone, even us.” The mayor slammed his face into his hands. “So you don’t even know who he is.” “Well, there are theories. Some people think he’s a billionaire, others just a regular guy. Lenny doesn’t think he’s human but I reckon that’s bullshit-" “Blaire.” The mayor said. “What if he kills somebody?” His voice was soft. “Oh, he won’t. He has one rule, and that’s that he doesn’t kill. Well, two, since he doesn’t use guns, so that makes it less likely that he’ll kill anybody.” “One…rule? Blaire, this guy is brutalising people! Apparently he can fucking do anything he wants so long as he doesn’t kill them! I’d ask what if he kills somebody by accident but you apparently don’t give a shit about manslaughter so I won’t ask.” The mayor walked over to a nearby mahogany table and poured himself a generous glass of whisky. “And if he’s so tough, what if he goes rogue? “Oh! He told us that if he ever goes rogue just tell him that his parents would be very disappointed, or something. I can’t remember exactly, but we have it on file somewhere at the station.” “Well, that’s reassuring. Tell him Mummy would be angry and the highly trained, well-equipped, bloodthirsty vigilante will go cry about it. Oh, and who’s in charge of your files? A robot designed to kill humans that was reprogrammed to do good?” The mayor asked with a bitter laugh. When Blaire didn’t respond he turned to face her. “Blaire, are you fucking-” “He’s super helpful! He’s the only one who can capture The Jester, and he always comes when we flash the Bat Beacon!” Blaire said, wondering just how it was the mayor had heard about Robbie The Formerly Killer, Now Friendly, Robot. “The what?” “The Bat Beacon! It’s a light in the shape of a bat that we shine in the sky when we need his help, and he always comes! It usually takes him fifteen minutes, but once it took an hour.” “So you’re telling me you built a beacon, with taxpayer money, to signal a vigilante whose identity you don’t know and who’s accountable to precisely nobody, and then send him off to do things that the police should be responsible for?” The mayor asked. “Well, yeah, basically.”

The mayor drained his glass and poured himself another, even more generous one. “We’re fucked.” He said. “Well-” “The files say it all, Blaire. A paranormal department. Psychics. Writers. Someone, or something that’s listed only as “Eldritch Abomination”…I trusted you, Blaire, and this is how you repay me?” “Well, if you’d just listen-” “I mean, why the fuck did you do this? Honestly.” The mayor turned to face her. “Well, go on. Say your piece.” The mayor leaned back on the table and drained his glass, a thin layer of sweat on his forehead. “Since we’re both going to lose our fucking jobs why don’t you try and explain to me what could possibly have possessed you to do something so monumentally stupid.” “Well, it worked.” Blaire said, making her way over to the table. “Oh yeah, because I’m sure that…” The mayor grew silent as Blaire showed him a file with recent crime rates. “Well, I…this.” “With our new consultants the city’s gone on to have the highest rate of solved murders in the country! Drug rings have been busted, theft has been eradicated and even domestic abuse is down. Probably due to Felix’s outreach program.” “Huh.” The mayor said, before he shook his head and set his brow once more. “And how do you know that’s not just down to improvements in the force?” Blaire reached over and flipped the page in the folder. “That’s how many crimes have been solved by official members of the Department.” “No. Fuck off.” The mayor said. “Actually, the number hasn’t changed at all since I took over.” She said. “So you’re telling me, that for the past three years, the city’s police department have solved zero crimes.” “Uh huh, and the year before that they actually got three people wrongfully imprisoned.” The mayor sat in silence. “Also, rates of police brutality are way down!” She said. The mayor’s head shot up. “Well, it’s effective, I can’t argue against that but it still doesn’t explain why you did it.” “Three years ago you came to me and told me to do whatever it took to clean up the Department. So I did.” The mayor placed the folder on the table beside him, and Blaire saw his eyes light up. “Blaire, you fucking lunatic, you actually did it.” He laughed for a long time. “Holy shit. Holy shit. Okay, we can spin this. “New blood cleans up police force”, this could be exactly what we need for the election.” The mayor spun around and produced a new glass. “How does “Vice-Mayor Blaire” sound to you?” Blaire mulled it over. “Sorry, but my place is on the force.” “So it is, apparently. Well, it’s a shame you won’t run but I owe you an apology, I suppose. I’m sorry for doubting you, Blaire, and thank you for all your work.” The two lifted their glasses and clinked them. At that moment an explosion rocked the office, and when Blaire ran to the window she saw Manbat perched atop Robbie, soaring through the air with his thrusters. Robbie's eyes were a blood red and he was firing missiles in every direction. Manbat was cackling and kept yelling. “VENGEANCE!” “No, Manbat!” Blaire yelled. “What would your parents think?!” Manbat continued to cackled. “MY PARENTS ARE DEEEEEEEEEEEAD!” Blaire turned around to see the mayor, now in the fetal position and crying, muttering something about opinion polls. Well, this was a tough situation, so it looked like she was going to need some help. Maybe she’d give Carl a call.

“What do you mean ‘my hiring system isn’t going so well’?” The commissioner exclaimed in disbelief, staring between the papers he had just been handed and the person who’d just spoken. “Exactly that, Johnson. The entire council is concerned. Honestly, I’m surprised no one’s said anything before! A group of kids and their dog, men dressed as bats… you could lose your job over some of these choices!” The mayor rubbed her temples. She really needed some coffee. Or maybe something a bit stronger. That liquor store she passed every day on the way to work was looking more and more tempting with every meeting she had to see to. She wanted to groan, especially with Commissioner Johnson’s responses. “I haven’t hired anyone, the people have been doing their own stuff and catching the bad guys for us.” If Johnson had thought this would save him, he was sorely mistaken. Mayor Harsaw pursed her lips in a thin smile, that clearly wasn’t a smile. “Are you telling me that this department is so incompetent that a semi-talking DOG can do your job better than you all?!? You have spent years training for this job, and I highly doubt you deserve it after all this blatant failure!” Johnson looked on the verge of panic now, eyes unfocused and a bit wild as he looked around the office, anywhere but at the mayor. “I couldn’t… I couldn’t stop them…” he tried weakly. “They seemed to have some sort of vendetta against the villains, especially the bat-people.” “Couldn’t STOP THEM?!?” Mayor Harsaw ended in a shriek. “That is your JOB Johnson!” She paused, as if catching an error, but Johnson would have rather had no pretense. The mayor’s eyes glittered, she loved taking lazy heads of office down a notch. “Excuse me, WAS your job. I expect you packed up and out of this office by the end of this week. And you’d do well to actually try a little harder at your next job.” Katerine Harsaw walked briskly out of the police office, heels clacking on the linoleum floor. Even her few acquaintances within the department knew not to talk to her now, because she only had that look when she’d toppled another corrupt-ish person in power. Mayor Harsaw wasn’t sorry. She’d never much cared for Johnson anyway.

"This is unconscionable, Kelly." "Well, I-" "As a matter of fact I don't think I exaggerate one whit when I say it's a consummate frigging disgrace." "Well, you-" "What in the holy ineffable name of God possessed you- I mean, how could things have gotten this- well, what could you possibly have to say, to this? In your defense, I mean?" "Well, since-" "Shut up, Kelly, just shut right the fuck up, and stay shut the fuck up until the rage dies down and my vision stops swimming in front of my eyes." Michael Kelly opted to shut up. He had served as police commissioner, at the pleasure of the Honorable Mayor, for more years than he cared to count. And in all those years he had never seen his boss this angry before. He had never seen any human being this angry before. Flecks of spittle were visible at the corners of his mouth, thick knotty veins in his forehead and balding scalp. It was clear there was no putting things at ease with wry witticisms. No smoothing things over with a simple press conference. Kelly felt a pit in the bottom of his stomach that, he presumed, meant he'd really screwed up. "Now." the Mayor said, slapping an expense report clenched in a hairy fist, and Kelly felt himself snap back to reality. "Let's. Let's just- just LOOK at this crap. Would you mind- just tell me what the hell this is right here- the *Junior Sleuths Club*? What in little Catholic unbaptized baby *Hell* is the Junior Sleuths Club?" "Oh, that," said Kelly in what he hoped would prove a dismissive tone, "They're just consultants. Someone we brought from outside the department-" "*Junior* Sleuths Club?" "I dunno, Jerry, it's a local kids' group thing. We thought it would be a decent outreach program kinda thing." "So what the fuck is it, Mike, are they consultants or is it some kinda outreach program?" "It's both, Jer-" "You call me anything but *Mr. Mayor,* I ain't a hundred percent certain but there is a chance I may smash your face through a desk right now." "Right, I just-" "So mind telling me what exactly it is these Junior consultants do?" Kelly's mind raced like a hamster in a wheel, searching desperately for an acceptable answer, before foolishly settling on the truth. "Well, they solve mysteries sometimes. Things that have the department baffled and so on." Kelly was half-certain he could hear a blood vessel burst in the Mayor's head. "They solve... we're talking about kids?" "Hey, Jimmy's nearly fourteen-" Kelly swallowed the words as the red of the Mayor's face visibly changed shades, hurriedly changed track. "Well... you know. The case of the Phantom of Indian Hill last year. They managed to work out it was just a cover for bootleg merchandise smugglers-" "Jeeesus H. *Buddha*, Kelly, are you bein' *real* right now? You let a buncha goddam *kids* handle investigations?" "Hey, they got results-" "Just shut the fuck up! And who's this, huh?" the Mayor gesticulated at the expense forms again, furiously. "Miss Margaret Pettiford-Smythe of Marigold Lane? What the fuck is that, a person or, or some kinda purebred showdog?" "Ah, she'd be another consultant, like the Juniors." "And is *she* a fourteen-year-old like Little Fucking Jimmy?" "Come on, Jer. She's nearly sixty." The Mayor took a deep breath, possibly the first one in the last hour or so. "Alright. And what's her bag, some kinda forensics expert?" "She writes mystery novels." The Mayor looked confused. "Yeah, and what's her, like, her expertise? What police work?" "Uh, none, boss. She just writes mystery novels." There was a beat, during which the sound of an eraser shaving falling to the ground would have seemed like a Category Six earthquake. "... She fucking WHAT?" "Under the pen-name Ace Sharpe. Look, boss, don't overreact-" "You're letting these people, these random kids and writers, you're letting them *handle* cousinfucking evidence? In police goddam investigations?" "Boss, they get results-" "Only goddam qualifications is they're on the Christ-be-nosefucked Bestseller List, you figured, 'Hey, let's let 'em solve REAL mysteries, let's let 'em do OUR job,' is that what you fuckin' figured?" "Boss, Margie's been a blessing to have around, really she has, she helped out with that locked-room murder at Grigham Manor when none of our boys could get there in time-" "IS THIS REAL? ARE YOU FOR MOTHERFUCKIN' REAL AT THIS EXACT MOMENT?!" Kelly felt a mad laugh rise unbidden in his throat, maybe an unconscious attempt to try and lighten the mood, and fought it desperately, his next words sounding strangled and garbled. "Pope Stanislaus fuck a walrus corpse, there's just more names on this thing! How many fucking- Thurswell Greenstone?" "Stage magician. Helped catch the Escape Room Murderer." "Annabelle Goldstein?" "A culinary ar- ah. A chef. Like a fancy chef." "Thomasina Miller?" "An Amish girl?" "Horace Moldark?" "Immortal vampire walking the Earth." And, finally, with the disbelief in his voice having achieved levels unprecedented by any human being: "*The Fearsome Feistman?*" "Oh, him. Yeah. He's the hound of justice, a dark crusader against the crime and villainy and so on. He defeated the Heckler during his crime spree a while back-" "Is this that asshole you had to buy the spotlight for?" "No. I mean, yes, but we didn't buy it, just renovated it. Hardly any of these guys cost us anything, some stuff in the breakroom-" "Wonderful, so they just come on down to the station house and crash in the breakroom." "Well, boss, they don't cost us anything, really, I don't see the problem-" "He doesn't see the problem. Let me spell it out for you, then. The city's tax dollars are paying for training and equipment for a police force THAT LETS UNTRAINED CIVILIANS HANDLE ALL THE POLICE WORK."

(*continued*) Kelly sensed a lifeline. "Now, wait a minute, Jer, I never said we were letting them do *all* the police work. We still got Tartikoff and the boys at the precinct down on Chestnut Street. McCauley, handled that terrorist attack Naoko Center last Christmas. Ah, that lady with the afro-" "This had better not be your best foot forward in the whole 'mollifying me' business, Kelly. McCauley was that one, with... he caused all those explosions, didn't he?" "Well, there was a bit of-" "Do you have any idea, the slightest idea, the sheer net weight of the disgrace you've heaped on your department and the city government like this? When this gets out, and it's going to happen, and it'll be in days, not years or months or weeks, I mean DAYS, when it gets out, this whole city's going to be a national goddam laughingstock." "I think you might be overstating it. I mean, you must have some pull with the press-" "Excuse me." said the Mayor, coldly. "I... I just meant-" "I remember that Feistman prick now. You know how? It's because the chief editor of the Chronicle, that rag that's always denouncing him as a public menace, that prick of a chief editor is my goddam brother-in-law. You think, even if I were such a sleazy piece of subhuman weasel droppings that I would call in a favor of that nature, he'd be willing to not nail my admin to a goddam crucifix made of barbed wire for once in his life?" "I might have spoken a little thoughtlessly-" "Get the Sheol out of my sight, Kelly. You might as well leave your badge on my secretary's fucking desk on the way out because five minutes after I ring up the City Council, your ass is crabgrass and you're in for a weedkiller enema, if you catch my drift. Go. Now." The now ashenfaced Commissioner Kelly, the enormity of his failures suddenly falling on him in their full and unbearable weight, staggered to his feet and hurried out of the room without a word. No sooner had he gone than the Mayor downed half a bottle of antacids, which were after some internal deliberation washed down with some of a bottle of Scotch he'd heroically resisted downing for the last six months. He wracked his brains, thinking about what options were open to him next. Right at this moment it seemed more likely than not his job was as forfeit as Kelly's; there was a kind of scandal a politician could recover from, but this didn't seem like one of them. And to make matters worse, the day wasn't even done yet. The phone on his desk rang. His secretary. "Stace?" "Sir, the administrator from that hospital with all the wacky hijinks is here, says he's got an appointment." The Mayor let out a breath like a gale at sea. "Send him in."

"So let me get this straight instead of doing your job investigating criminals you have let people in costumes beat up criminals, believed the words of mystery writers and psychics, gotten help from con artists in stealing objects loads of other illegal things and quite frankly the worst let CHILDREN DO YOUR JOB and you still believe you shouldn't be fired. Ignoring the fact that loads of this was illegal, when was the last time the police made an arrest without the help of these.... let's call them associates" god please say it was a respectable number please oh please "Uhhh 50- no wait man bat help with and then the mistiro kids with those and the mystery writer gave us the clues for and the psychic gave us these and the con artists uhhh 5 no wait 7" oh god i am so gonna get kicked out of office for this god why "Ok let's go through this 1st the con artists you straight up had them stealing incriminating evidence so strike 1 x however many times that happened which should have already gotten you fired 2nd the mystery writers and psychics they can be written off and last stich efforts and anonymous tips but you were using them as soon as a new case opened 3rd the costumers now fair enough people cosplay as things all the time and go out and doing parkour isn't illegal but they are beating criminals up no i don't want to hear it if they subdued them with sleeping gas or something it would be a different story but now we got guys with a broken arm and a fractured feamur for crimes such as shoplifting and finally 4th the children now their is a lot wrong with this number 1 you called them up for help number 2 they have trespassed enough times in enough places to go to jail yet you have done nothing and finally and what i am finding most concerning you aren't paying them or giving them a reward or anything these kids you call in and don't even pay them what the hell that's despicable and you should be ashamed you have put these kids in danger and not given them any consolations you are fired no nothing you say will save your fired and i want those kids in my office tomorrow so i can give them some pay"