Two years after the Robocop 2 incident, Old Detroit is still the crime-ridden city it has always been. The police are stretched thin, crime is in the record highs, and there doesn't seem to be an end to all of this. A man sits in a rundown hotel, beer bottles cover his floor, and guns decorate his walls. The man stands up, looking at himself in a mirror. He is skinny, long-haired, long beard, and looks like one of the many homeless that wander through the streets of this city, asking for a piece of food. How many of them are actual homeless men and how many are just criminals looking for some sucker with a weak heart, no one knows. The man walks over to his wall and grabs an assault rifle from the wall. "The police have failed, it is time to act for the greater good."
The flashing lights of Police cruisers shine around a building, there's a hostage situation going on. A madman with a gun is holding four children hostage in an old orphanage. A police officer gets out of a car with a megaphone. "Okay, Charles, just let the kids go and we'll give you whatever you want."
Charles, a former businessman now turned suicidal gunman, hears the officer. White powder covers his nose, his eyes are wide and his hands tremble while holding the pistol. Getting up from his seat, he walks over to the window and looks out of it. "Okay, Here's what I want! I want a new 6000 SUX, my last one broke down! I want the trunk to be loaded with cocaine, none of that Nuke shit! And I want a prostitute! A good one with large breasts!"
Another car pulls up to the situation. The first to come out is a woman with short blond hair and chewing a piece of bubblegum. The next to get out is a man encased in a metal body. Not man, not machine, but a cop, Robocop. Formerly known as Alex Murphy, he and his partner Lewis have become the stars of the Police Department. Murphy walked over to the officer heading the situation. "What is the problem, Officer Franklin?" Murphy asked with hardly a hint of emotion in his voice.
"Robo, glad you're here. Okay, we got a gunman up on the second floor with four kids as hostages. He was a former up and coming businessman until he lost it all playing stocks, gambling, and blowing it on drugs. He dressed up as Santa and went in there for the kids. Took four of them as hostages and here we are."
Murphy looked up at the gunman. Zooming in, he could see the gun in his hand. It was a cheap Beretta nine millimeter handgun. Turning his attention back to Officer Franklin, Murphy had a plan in mind. "Keep him talking. Lewis, go around to the front and wait until I have taken care of the gunman. You try and get the children out."
"Got it," Lewis said. The bright spotlights would be enough to keep Charles blind. Using that to her advantage she went into the darkened part of the street and began making her way over to the front door, hoping that he wouldn't see her.
Murphy walked over to the back of the building. Opening the door, he went inside and switched his visor to thermal. Locating the room that Charles was in, Murphy's leg then opened and he grabbed his pistol. As he went up the steps, he could hear Charles talking to himself about how he is going to head towards Mexico and get out. The gun was in his right hand, and he was far enough away from the children to lower the risk of someone getting hurt.
Lewis made her way through the building, she could see Murphy at the end of the hallway. Pulling her pistol from its holster, she went over to the door of the room. Once Murphy took care of the gunman it was her job to make sure the children got out safely. Checking her pistol to see if it was ready to fire, she could feel her heart racing. She had done this a lot of times, going into dangerous situations, but it never gets any easier, but she was ready for it as always.
Murphy positioned himself right behind the gunman and raised his gun. The walls were thin and cheaply made, his gun could go right through it. Calculating the chance of a child getting hurt, he made sure that his pistol was at the right spot to minimize the chance of a stray bullet from anyone. Firing his gun, he could see it go through the wall and hit the gunman's shoulder, making him drop his gun in shock.
Lewis heard the gunfire and kicked open the door. "Kids, get out, now!" She yelled and watched as the scared children ran for the door. She aimed her pistol at the gunman, ready to fire if he even made a single move that made her think he was going for his gun. Once all the children were out, she ran behind them, keeping her eyes on the door till she hit the stairs. She had gotten the kids out safe, it was all up to Murphy now.
Murphy broke through the wall and grabbed Charles by the back of his neck. "You are under arrest, anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney, if you do not have one, one will be appointed for you." Murphy read the man his rights and dragged the struggling man out of the building. While for a normal cop this man would have broken free in a few minutes, Murphy was strong enough to handle him.
Murphy stepped out of the building, still holding onto the fighting culprit. He tossed him over to one of the cops, who instantly brought Charles down onto the ground. "Murphy, did you read him his rights?" The cops asked.
"I did, Officer Williams," Murphy said while walking back over to his car. While he could stay he knew that somewhere there was another crime being committed.
Getting inside of his car, he heard his passenger door opening. He looked over to see Lewis getting in and unwrapping a new stick of bubblegum. "How are the kids?" He asked, showing a bit of his humanity.
"Good, none of them were hurt. They are being taken to the hospital though just in case we missed something." Lewis replied while tossing out her used piece of gum. "Where to next?"
"Wherever there is a crime, Lewis," Murphy replied while starting up the car. It was December and a lot of stores were being robbed. But there was a bigger problem. In the past two years, after Cain's gang was killed, new groups have been coming up and trying to take his place in the Nuke business. Because of that, several large gang wars have been breaking out all across the city. There are three known gangs.
The First is the Splatter Punks. An anarchist gang which doesn't seem to have a set goal in mind but just set to cause as much anarchy as possible. The location they are at sees little police patrol since they lost too many officers down there. With how thin they are, they sadly had to turn down police patrols.
The second of the gangs is the Dogtown Boys, a group of Neo-Nazis that deal in everything from guns to drugs to sex. They attack whoever doesn't agree with them and those they believe are weak. They are under the command of a man called Heimrich, the Second Angel of Death. They are known for training their members like soldiers and their very military-like combat. The police have also lost a lot of men to them. They and the Splatter Punks often have gang wars that leave entire neighborhoods in a sea of dead bodies.
The final group of the two is the infamous Yakuza. The most well funded of the groups, having ties to large corporations over in Japan, they are known for using sophisticated and advance weapons to further their goals. From the police reports, it seems that the Yakuza wish to bring a form of order to the streets. Eliminating the other two gangs to leave them as the only gang in Old Detroit.
Outside of a small gun store, a group of men stand outside. Each of them dressed in leather jackets and punk like clothing. A man with a bright red mohawk came up to the ground, opening his jacket to show he had a sawn-off pump shotgun in his jacket. The other men grin before kicking open the door to the gun store.
The store owner quickly reached for a gun underneath his cash register but wasn't fast enough. In a few seconds, there was a loud explosion and the owner's brains were splattered across the wall. The group of men screamed and yelled in savage pride and joy as they saw the blood. The man with the red mohawk jumped over the cabinet and went to the blood. Dipping his fingers into it, he dragged them across the side of his face, marking himself like one would do with warpaint. "Boys, grab whatever guns you want, it's on the house!" He yelled as he started searching for any new guns he could use.
A black van pulled up. In the van, a man with a shaved head looked out of the window. Seeing that the Splatter Punks were there, the man whistled for his friends in the back to get ready. He reached into his glove compartment and pulled out a pistol. Cocking it, he opened the door and aimed it at one of the Splatter Punks. Firing, his bullets ripped through the rival gang member's body, killing him instantly.
The Splatter Punks saw their friend go down. One of them grabbed a submachine gun and ran outside. Pulling the trigger, he let loose a hail of bullets, ripping the rival gang member into pieces. The Splatter Punks and the Dogtown Boys were fighting again, ripping each other apart with guns.
The Dogtown Boys in the back of the van got out and began firing into the shop, causing the Splatter punks to duck behind the cabinet. One of the Splatter Punks reached into his jacket and pulled out a hand grenade. pulling the pin, he tossed it outside, hearing the explosion come a few second laters.
The Dogtown boys ducked when they saw the grenade, but it killed two of others who weren't lucky enough to get out of the van. Reaching into his boot, one of the Dogtown Boys pulled out a pistol and fired into the shop, hitting one of the Splatter Punks in the head.
The punk with the Mohawk loaded his shotgun and then injected some Nuke into his neck. Feeling the rush going through him, he ran outside and opened fire on the remaining Dogtown boys. He watched as his shells tore through a few of them, but what he couldn't feel was the bullets go through him. He was superhuman right now, at least in his mind. He was bleeding badly, leaving a thick trail of blood as he walked.
The remaining Dogtown Boy checked his pistol, it was empty. Pulling a hunting knife from his boot and grabbing his pistol by the barrel, he ran over to the Splatter Punk. He stabbed him in the stomach and began beating him over the head with the butt of his pistol, but it seemed to do little against him.
The Splatter Punk laughed as the attacks felt like little tickles to him. Dropping his shotgun, he pushed the Dogstreet Boy away and grabbed a metal pipe. Running over to him, he began beating the other gang member down onto the ground. As he beat him over and over, he watched as his metal pipe was coated red. Tossing it away, he dragged the Dogstreet Boy over to a curb. Making the rival gang member bite down on it, he placed his boot down onto his head and gave it a quick stomp, killing the rival gang member on impact.
The mohawked gang member let out a warcry of joy and pride before feeling his drugs ware off. He now felt the bullet wounds that covered his chest. The multiple stab wounds, the knife that was still hilt deep into his gut. Before he could do anymore, he fell face first onto the ground, dying a few moments later.
A day later this gang war was on the news. An old man sits in a lavish office, his fingers interlocking as he carefully studied the material. "This is terrible, just terrible, gang violence is at a high. Delta City can never begin construction this way." The Old Man said as he turned off the television.
A black man walked over to him, his hands folded behind his back. "Mister Chairman, might I suggest something?"
"What is it, Johnson?" The Old Man was nearly defeated at this point. His dream idea of Delta City wasn't becoming a reality, and the people down below were causing more and more problems.
"It's called Rehab, sir. Instead of investing in a new Robocop to clean the streets, why not a new police force? The old one is fine, but they are stretched thin and are ill-equipped to handle the violence that has come with Cain's death." Johnson placed a folder down on the Old Man's desk, peeking his interest.
Opening the folder, the Old Man read through it. "Johnson, who do you have in mind for leading this group?"
Johnson nervously rubbed the back of his head, worried about what he was about to tell him. "Well, no one yet, sir. We are still screening applicants for that position."
The Old Man put the folder down and looked over to Johnson. "Very well, but the moment you or I find someone, we move forward with this Rehab program. We will offer them anything in our arsenal. Do you know how we are going to sell this to the people though?"
"Yes, sir, I have. If you read page four, I clearly state that Rehab is just an upgraded police program on the front. Same cops, different and better uniforms."
"Good move, Johnson, very good move. I will personally be watching this unfold and look forward to great things from it." The Old Man handed Johnson his folder and leaned back in his chair. His hope for Delta City was coming back, and its name was Rehab.