[PARADISE] Blood and Palm Trees: Quadruple LEO Homicide, 14/JAN/2024 3:30PM

ChromaticDeath · January 15

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*The website's quite plain in display, everything center-aligned: 'anotherdayinparadise.net.' There's a disclaimer at the top of the page that reads:*

GRAPHIC CONTENT WARNING - 18+
My day started relatively normal. Coffee and a few scenes in Vinewood.
In my absolute fucking hubris, I thought it'd be an easy day as a result.
I could not possibly have been more wrong. I enjoyed my coffee while it lasted.
Some kid had gotten himself arrested by running his car into a K-9 Cruiser.

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Goofy shit like this never lasts for too long- only long enough for you to let your guard down.
One minute you're sipping some overpriced bullshit from Rockford, the next you're wrist-deep in brains.
I swing Southside to check out what's going on below the Olympic. It's usually quiet this hour.
Traffic stop on three dudes who don't look like they wanna be there? K-9 onscene?
In the industry, we call this 'foreshadowing'.

It's moments like this I'm glad I run dashcam. I pull past this stop. Normal to the untrained eye.
To me? Nah. Dog? Woofin'. Torrence? Black. Tints? Dark. Cops? Outnumbered. Hotel? Trivago.
I keep going. I'll loop back around to take a look at things from across the road.

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Yeah, see this little piece of imported shit? It'll be come relevant in a moment.
I drive up the road and pass it in the opposite lane on my way.
Once I take the U-Turn, it speeds off towards Jamestown.
I would soon find out why.

So I sit my fat ass across the street and watch that first car like a hawk. I know something's bound to happen.
...I just don't know what. Or when. Being in LS this long, you develop a sixth sense. It's like a gaydar, but for hoodrats.
So, I'm waiting for some funky shit to go down when a game of Call of Duty kicks off in Jamestown.
Now, usually that would be normal, but right now, we also got this fucking stop next to it.
I make the executive decision to break off and follow the Scout that split from the stop.

Did you catch that? Guy in the Scout sure did, and he gave chase. Yeah- it's that rice-burner from earlier.
Screaming out of Jamestown like a bat out of hell, that Sultan is carrying some serious firepower.
I like to call them 'gunboats'. Apt enough name, I think. So- now we have a shooting.
It's enough for me to pursue. Hook line and sinker.

Can't blame the officer here, but needless to say, following that car was a bad fucking idea.
We get just a little down Jamestown street before I hear the chattering of a Davis typewriter.
The car ahead of me explodes into a hail of glass and gore. Shooting two. It isn't pretty.

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I get out to render aid but it's no use. The guy's a goner and I can see it from my driver's seat.
Normally I don't blur anything, but I'd rather not get my ass kicked by SWAT or something.
So instead, just imagine putting your hand into a watermelon and scooping out the inside.
Then shoot the watermelon with a 12 gauge. That's what it looked like.
Honestly? I wish that's where it ended. But it wasn't.

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While we're sitting there trying to figure out what the fuck just happened, another volley of gunfire erupts from where we were.
This time it wasn't automatics, but it didn't matter. The end result was ultimately the same, either way.
I get in my car and skid that way. Three more officers down. A K-9 Handler, patrolwoman, and patrolman.
Dog made it out okay. No-one else did. Same as last time, I was in for a mindblowing experience on arrival.
BLS Kit wasn't going to do shit. The top of the guy's head had been removed with a slug from a .45.

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I must've stood there getting circled by black four-doors for five minutes. Busy evening, I called twice.
Eventually, I got sick of being gawked at and having to watch my back and just hit his panic button.
Little orange switch on their radios. Sends every cop on the island to you in 30 seconds.
My coffee was cold by the time all was said and done. I drive home and decide to cruise.

...And what do you know.

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I turn a corner in the middle of fucking nowhere. And there, sitting in front of me, is the Torrence from earlier.
It's like no matter how much I wanted to get away from that shit, it found a way to bite me back.
Thankfully, all its upstanding occupants had fled and were nowhere to be found.
However, it had a license plate. So the driver is Grade-A fucked.
If you're reading this, dude, you owe me a new shirt.

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So by now you're probably wondering, what's the moral to all of this?
Surely there's a lesson to be learned here from the Author, right?
Yeah, well, not really. The moral is don't fucking come here.
Don't come to LS. Don't try to raise your kids here.
Don't give in to tourism. Don't listen to LSGov.

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There are no more stars in LS. There is no more glamour, and there especially are no more heroes.
The studios are closed, Vinewood is a lie. Every hero this city has ever had is dead and gone.
A failed experiment, a place that has defied reason since its inception. Crude Oil and sunscreen.
Build a metropolis in the middle of the desert and pipe water in.
This is what happens when you play God.