Tommy Muldoon, the rookie cop.

"Officer Muldoon, be advised, backup will arrive in ten minutes. Do not engage the suspect, repeat, do NOT engage the suspect." The radio crackled into your ear.

You only vaguely hear the radio as you stare at the dilapidated apartment complex. Somewhere in that building, with its cracked paint and broken windows, a killer was hiding. He was nicknamed the 'Southside Strangler' for his MO and his prowling grounds and he's killed more than a dozen people, some of them cops. It's gotten so bad that people rarely walk around these parts, and nothing pisses you off more than people who think they're above the law.

"Negative, Judy." You speak into the radio, "I'm not letting him get away. Not on my watch."

There is a brief static silence. Then the female dispatch, Judy, on the other side spoke again, more personally, "Tommy, please. Don't do anything stupid."

"If I do, will that mean we won't be going to dinner later?" You ask jokingly, trying to lighten the mood.

Static. Then, another voice came on, tough and overbearing, "Officer Muldoon." The voice said. Oh no. You're pretty certain it's Police Chief Gradys. You can practically see him, with his big, bald head staring down at you, warning you about the dangers of the streets like your old academy trainer.

"Officer Muldoon," Gradys repeats over the radio, "You've been here for less than a week, so I understand that you wouldn't know what's going on. But let me explain to you more clearly."

You hear the chief sigh over the radio, like he's told a hundred rookies the same story. You sigh too, only inwardly.

"The Southside Strangler has killed five of our men in the last month. The most recent being just before you arrived in Arkham. He is known to be armed, dangerous, and unstable." He puts heavy emphasis on the word 'unstable', "And now, we've got him trapped in that building. But he knows that too, which makes him very dangerous. If you go in there. He. Will. Kill. You."

But you're not listening to him anymore. Your old man always called you hot-headed, but ain't no one's gonna call you a coward. If there's a crime being committed or a criminal out on the loose, you can be damn sure that you're not gonna sit around and do nothing. Grabbing Becky, your old 1894 Winchester Rifle, and tossing your radio to the backseat, you step outside the car and make your way to the front door.