Loose Cannon

"I've had it up to here with your renegade ways, John!" Chief Brandis yelled as he pounded his fists on the desk. "You blew up an orphanage, dropkicked a nun, and then drove a helicopter into a Wildlife Sanctuary. You're a loose cannon!"

Detective John Magnum squinted. "Hey," he bellowed, his voice like a bullet of sound. "Those orphans had it coming." John pulled out a cigar. He lit it up. Then he squinted some more. "And that nun, well, she knows why I dropkicked her."

Chief Brandis shook his head. "I'm sorry to have to do this John, but give me your badge. Tonight is Halloween, and we can't have you endangering all those young kids out tonight."

John glared at the Chief, smoke rising from his cigar. "Hey...why don't you give me your badge."

"What?" Chief Brandis asked. "That doesn't make any sense."

"You don't make any sense," John replied, squinting. Then he lit up another cigar.

"John, I don't have time for this, just give me your badge," the Chief demanded. "Please John, do it for your dead partner, Maverick."

Maverick. He was John's partner for 13 amazing years. They did everything together. Beat up crooks. Shot up coke dealers. Yelled obscenities at old ladies. What a shame that on the day of his retirement, Maverick was shot. Shot to death. With bullets.

"I'm only doing this for Maverick, "John said as he slammed his badge down on the desk. "But hear this. I will take the law into my own hands."

John gave an intense squint. Dramatic music played in the background. It was pretty badass.

---

They always said John was a 'renegade', that he had a 'short fuse', that he was 'mentally unbalanced and suffered from unhealthy rage'. Well, he never believed them. He was a cop. A damn good one. Yeah, sometimes he bent the rules. And sometimes he completely disregarded the rules and just did illegal stuff. But he got the job done. Most of the time. Sometimes he just caused excessive destruction. But about 60% of the time, he got the job done.

John stood at his desk. He felt empty without his badge. Most cops have paperwork and photographs on their desks. John had a shotgun and a picture of the first guy he ever killed. Ironically, it was the guy who sold him the shotgun. He picked the weapon up. It was like a son to him. A son that shot bullets. Death bullets.

"Hey John, I heard about your suspension," Officer Don Garcia shouted from his desk. "That's a shame."

John cocked the shotgun that he was holding in his hands. "The only shame is that all the bad guys are gonna die tonight. And by shame, I mean 'good', because it'll be a plus that they're all dying."

Don leaned forward in his chair, "So who're you going after tonight?"

"Actually, I don't know. I was just going to walk the streets, cocking my shotgun and looking for troublemakers," John replied quickly.

Don looked around, and then leaned in closer to John. "You know, I heard The Cobra Squad are planning something big tonight. A little 'halloween' treat, if you will."

"Oh really...that's interesting," John cocked the shotgun once again, and then squinted. "Looks like I'll be paying The Cobra Sqaud a little visit...a little deadly visit."

John put on a pair of cool shades and strutted off down the hall, shotgun in hand.

He quickly came back. "Hey Don, do you think you could draw me out a map to the Cobra Squad's hideout? I haven't been there in years."

"Yeah, sure thing."


---

John pulled up the Cobra Squad hideout. It was an old abandoned Arbie's. The location suited such an evil, tasteless group of bad guys.

John walked up to large metallic backdoor. He knocked on it three times. A small slot in the center of the door slid open and a pair of eyes stared at John.

"Who are you?" the man said from the other side of the door.

"Er...I'm...the shotgun delivery guy," John said holding up the shotgun. "I got this...shotgun to deliver to you guys. It's really good."

The man stared at him for a few seconds. "Yeah, okay."

The door opened. John stayed in character as the shotgun delivery guy. "So, where do you want me to put this shotgun?"

The inside of the Arbies was cold and depressing, just like most Arbies. The man pointed to a booth in the corner. "Put the shotgun on there."

John nooded. Then squinted. He walked over to the table slowly, his hand gripping the shotgun on the table tightly. He slowly placed it on the table, eyeing the man watching him. He let go of the shotgun and turned around. Then he walked back outside. The door was shut behind him.

"Oh dammit," John moaned. "I forgot to kill everyone!"

He knocked on the door again. The slot slid open. "Now what?"

"Er...I'm the...shotgun pickup guy...My twin brother dropped off a shotgun for me to pick up," John explained.

The man stared at him for a few seconds. "Yeah, okay."

John nodded. Then squinted. He walked inside the Arbie's again. The man watched as John walked back to the booth again. John picked up the shotgun. Then he cocked it. Then he walked back out of the restaurant. The door shut behind him.

"Goddammit, I forgot to shoot them all again!" John yelled. "Whatever, I'll just blow up the building."

John pulled out the stick of dynamite that he always carried around with him. Then he pulled out the cake he always carried around with him. He put the dynamite in the cake and lit it. Then he knocked on the door again.

The slot opened, and the man looked out. "And who are you?"

"I'm the guy who dropped off the shotgun before," John explained. "You guys did such a good job and stuff, I baked you a cake."

"Awwwww, that's so nice of you," the man said as he opened the door.

John handed him the cake. "Uh...I have to go stand behind that dumpster over there for a second. I'll be right back!"

John scurried off behind the dumpster. He plugged his ears. There was a loud explosion. "Hmmm...I hope that was the dynamite going off," he thought to himself.

He looked over the dumpster. There was a massive crater where Arbie's used to be. It looks like the Cobra Squad wouldn't be ruining Halloween this year after all. John squinted and lit up a cigar in celebration.

---

Chief Brandis shook his head in disbelief. "I can't believe this...you blew up an Arbie's, even after I put you on suspension."

"Hey, that Arbie's was full of neo-terrorists!" John yelled back. "I was doing you a favour. The least you could do is thank me."

"John, you're under arrest," Chief Brandis mumbled.

"Why? What did I do?" John questioned.

"You just blew up a public place. You thought you'd get away with it?" the Chief stated.

"Yeah, kinda,"John replied. "I'm a cop, I'm above the law. I saw that Steven Seagal movie, that's how it works!"

Chief Brandis stood up, brandishing a pair of handcuffs. He moved behind John. "Alright, put your hands behind your back."

John did as he was told.

Chief Brandis began to move the cuffs towards John's hands. "You have the right to remain silent. Anyth-"

Before he could finish, John grabbed the Chief and threw him out the large window in the corner of the room. Chief Brandis fell straight down into a gas tanker parked outside, causing a massive explosion.

John squinted and looked out the window. "Looks like you have the right to remain dead."

A gritty guitar solo strummed in the background as John watched the sunset from the broken window.