DVD Commentary: It's long overdue, and I am really sorry about that, but I was totally stuck on how things were going to play out from here. I also admittedly wasn't even working on this for a long time because I knew I'd be out of a job at some point in 2020 or early 21 at the latest, so I figured I would just focus on other things until I had more free time to play with. But after Bad Boys 3 kicked some ass (and Sonic too) in the theaters I got a bit more motivated... plus all the anti-police bullshit going on around really got my piss boiling; overly sensational news that makes it seem like this stuff happens more than rarely and pushing incomplete accounts that turn out to be totally inaccurate, celebrities grandstanding when they don't know jack shit, and politicians gladly throwing cops under the bus to curry favor, all before even bothering to learn any details about WHAT THE FUCK ACTUALLY HAPPENED. Amazing how just a little context clears a lot of these things up.

Now, I'm not here to talk politics, and believe me I edited this shit down. I'm just stating where I stand, which is if you willfully endanger an officer's life (or anybody's life really- but just a LITTLE more for a civil servant) your own has been voluntarily declared null and void. George Floyd was a victim of unnecessary force (maybe even racism; it could have just been sadism- regardless of whether or not it actually killed him) by someone who shouldn't have been on the force, but I have zero sympathy for the likes of Jacob Blake, Rayshard Brooks, or M'khia (or whatever, she doesn't deserve to have her name said except for making clear who I mean) Bryant, who ultimately got themselves shot because they had a chronic problem of making bad choices in their lives. Most times at worst the officers are only guilty of making a hasty choice in the heat of the moment that the suspect had created in the first place. I studied for a job in law enforcement myself before deciding I probably wouldn't like it (I'm probably far too cynical) so maybe that makes me biased, but also no doubt makes me understand better than most what an officer faces on the job and why they do what they do in situations.

You probably already know that though, because an author's viewpoint inevitably shapes the stories they tell. No, I don't feel troubled when bad people trying to harm others get their tickets punched instead. I just say good riddance and consider it moral Darwinism in action: people who behave in a manner detrimental to the rest of society end up getting removed from it and the 'gene pool' is thus incrementally reduced to people who will be more conducive to the survival of the species to carry on. The how is entirely up to you: you can change your behavior willingly, or if you're lacking personal incentive to be a decent person, you can be forcibly separated (read: go to jail), or you can push your luck to the grave (well, Jacob Blake survived though is likely paralyzed, so he at least won't be able to sexually assault women anymore.)

And this story, as you probably already gleaned, uses dark comedy- if an officer in real life did even half of what you see in a typical cop movie he'd likely be promptly fired, possibly even considered a psychopath, and I lampshade the absurdity of what routinely goes down in an action set piece. While I'm guessing cowboy cop behavior is not in vogue at the moment so the jokes might be considered 'insensitive' right now, I'm not changing up my script simply because the timing is inconvenient. The chapter was already 75% written before 2020 (the second paragraph of the author notes really dates it); it was only the garage and desk scenes that hadn't even been conceived yet- I needed to come up with some buffer scenes between key events. Dialog also had some gaps I had trouble filling but that was minor.

So consider yourself warned if you're the kind of person who unironically says 'ACAB' or 'abolish/defund the police'... although I can't imagine such a person would even be reading a story called Virtua Cops in the first place, so I'm guessing we're all fans of this genre who will just enjoy the ride. I should probably amend the first chapter with this note instead. Maybe later, because some weirdo newbies might read the most recent chapters of stories they stumble across. If so, then I seriously recommend just reading the first chapter instead because it sets the tone perfectly and the plot starts to thicken here.

Also, I was so in the mood I even reviewed Virtua Cop on my Youtube channel.


The latter portion of the chase as well as its fiery conclusion was broadcast live on Channel 7 News to well over a million viewers across the Virtua City region, Koji's brother and friends among them. They all watched the events unfold on the screen. Nobody said shit.

Koji never emerged from the flaming wreck, as the reporter unnecessarily pointed out. He was most certainly dead. Everyone tried their hardest to avoid looking in Shinji's direction. He didn't say or do anything besides stare at the screen. The camera feed eventually cut from the wreck to the anchors in the newsroom, who gave an uneasy summary of the previously shown event. Shinji finally snapped out of his trance, turned, and walked away. Nobody said shit.

He picked up a weapon and set of keys from the table, then went out the back door. Nobody followed him. He didn't give any indication as to if he had wanted them to or not. A minute later the roar of a motorcycle could be heard going down the driveway and fading into the distance. Nobody said shit.


"Man, you know where all the action is," said Officer Cavers... and about thirteen other officers before him, give or take a few words. "I'm guessing he was a suspect in your case?"

"Was is right," Mike answered... for about the tenth time. However, the arrival of an unmarked car signaled a probable end to this routine. "Skipper's here." The officers all scattered and tried to look busy. Captain Karanza got out of his vehicle, spotted them right away, and walked straight across.

"Shit, Mike. You sure get all the action around here."

"Yeah, that's what everyone keeps telling me."

"You do know this was supposed to be a nonviolent assignment, right?"

"Says the guy who put me on a gangland slaying case for backup?"

"Touché. If I only gave you the safe assignments, your father would disapprove. And since I don't, your mother disapproves. I can't win." It was a succinct summary of the captain's internal conflict. Frank had been a partner and best friend to his father, and a godfather to him. Being his commanding officer now as well wasn't easy.

"So what happens now?"

"I don't know. This guy technically died in a high-speed car crash fleeing arrest. There will be some questions, of course. Maybe some people will complain. Probably have to put you somewhere quiet for a while."

"Where is quiet in this city these days?"


Shinji pulled up along the median on the other side of the freeway. By now the blaze had been completely extinguished. A coroner's van had also arrived, confirming what he already knew: his brother was dead. And still present was the cop car that had wrecked him. He scanned the site for the two cops he had seen emerge from it on the TV. It wasn't hard; the only three members of the VCPD not wearing uniforms present were talking off to the side. One was in plainclothes, the other two were in suits. The conversation was clearly two to one against the considerably older man in the suit, obviously a superior officer. He was certain the plainclothes officer had been the one driving- death was mandated. The younger officer in the suit would have to be his partner- fate yet to be determined, but acceptable collateral damage as far as he was concerned. The commanding officer- didn't matter one way or the other. He'd shoot up a nursery if his brother's killer was inside it.

He could just shoot all three of them, right here, right now... maybe. He could also quite possibly miss at this distance. And he could quickly be shot dead in return by the numerous other cops present in mere seconds, possibly before he could even finish the job. The prospect was still enticing enough to try. He unzipped his jacket and considered his move...

"Hey!" A voice from behind startled him. He turned in his seat, reaching for his weapon, though he managed to stop himself before pulling the gun free. One officer was walking toward him gesturing, obviously the one who had yelled out. "Move along!" A few tense moments passed before Shinji processed that the officer had merely pegged him as a rubbernecker illegally parked on the highway. However, the cop was now clearly getting unnerved by the stare down. The officer couldn't see enough to realize what Shinji was doing but would probably figure it out soon enough. Not now... He turned away and hit the throttle to leave the officer behind wondering what that was all about.

Not wanting to risk returning to the scene, he instead headed back to the house. He found the crew all seemingly just waiting for him to return. Not that he expected them to do anything else; their next job had clearly been canceled. Everyone looked at him but nobody spoke. He raised a foot and broke the silence along with the glass coffee table. Not satisfied, he continued to pulverize the table while everyone else looked down. When the table was practically devoid of glass, he simply walked past everyone else and shut himself in the master bedroom. Nobody said shit.


The aftermath of reports and questioning had separated Mike from his partner, and the fact he was not going to return to casework anytime soon would ensure it stayed that way. Once free, he headed home. The next morning he headed back to the station for the second round of questioning, making a detour along the way to an auto shop, this one actually a functional business, owned and operated by Esaki. Their working relationship extended beyond just a cop and informant.

While owning his very own sleek and sexy police vehicle might be pretty cool, it also meant the vehicle was largely his own responsibility to get fixed up should anything unfortunate befall it; an ever-present risk when your job entailed dealing with trouble. Esaki was at the front desk and saw him enter, initiating the conversation. "Well, well... Somehow I just had this feeling you'd show up." Nobody else was currently present in the room, so they could speak freely for the moment at least.

"Why would you say that?"

His coy tone only served to confirm Esaki's hunch. "Shit man, I KNEW that had to be you on TV. So was that guy you were chasing one of-"

He put up a hand. "Sorry, but I am not at liberty to answer that question because it relates to an ongoing investigation."

"In other words, yes."

"I can neither confirm nor deny that."

"Okay then, onto the real reason that you're here... How bad is it this time?"

Mike moved his hands around as if he were physically assembling the response. "Eh... not too bad this time..."

Esaki took a breath. "What did you do?"

"Not much... just sort of dinged the front a bit..."

"Yeah, I've heard THAT before. What the fuck is 'sort of dinged'? You mean like the time you nailed the deer?"

"No, but worse than the time I clipped the car thief. I just nudged the other car a little... and drove through a chain-link fence."

"Is that all you did?"

"That was all I did. The suspect shot it a couple of times too."

"Like how much?"

Now Mike sighed. "Look, you want to just take a look at the car itself?"

"Yes, that would probably just be faster," Esaki agreed. They headed outside to where the car was parked. "Oh," he said in a relieved voice, "you were right. It's actually not that bad this time. Needs a new windshield though. That's gonna take a while. We don't keep a stock of bulletproof windshields here... Though maybe I should start."

After finishing his morning commute and detour, he arrived at the precinct with just over a half-hour to kill before round two started. He walked through the bullpen for some water cooler conversation, even though he figured he was going to be the topic anyway. As it turned out James was the first person to make contact. "Sergeant."

"You can just call me Mike, you know."

"Yes sir."

He sighed. "What's up?"

"I've got something case-related," James replied as if it was obvious, which admittedly it pretty much was.

"Yeah, well I'm not sure if I'm still on the case anymore."

"Maybe, but I don't have a replacement yet and you are the only other person with any knowledge of the case that I can ask for some input on."

"It's probably technically against the rules but okay, let's hear it."

"We've ID'ed the driver of the car. His name is Koji and he happens to have a brother named Shinji."

"Well hot damn, Esaki was right. That's one half of the gangster brothers he told us about." James handed him the printouts on each brother. They were real peas in a pod: two kids on a path of destruction. Their rap sheets could provide a week's worth of toilet paper, mostly small fry offenses: fighting, drug possession, shoplifting... and most recently one for possession of a firearm; a considerably bigger deal back in their homeland. That much info was solid, however it only covered their crimes committed in Japan. Conspicuously absent as well was something that might connect them to organized crime. "Anything on them since coming to America?"

"No. They both dropped off the grid back in Japan. There's no record of either of them ever coming to the US."

These punks had some connections. While he didn't expect an affirmative answer, he asked, "What about any ties to yakuza groups? Are they affiliated with the Nakayama or Toshihiro?"

"They have no known links to any organized crime families, either here or back East. Which doesn't really surprise me, because I don't think they're with either."

Interesting... Let's see what the young detective's theory is... "What makes you think that?"

"That car Koji was driving? We were able to still read the vehicle's identification numbers. Turns out it's actually Yagi's missing car. And what's more, it's been repainted once before too. Can you guess which color it was previously?"

The answer was illogical yet seemingly implied. "Blue?"

"Right you are."

It was a whopper of a puzzle piece: instead of three different cars, they'd been looking for one car painted three different colors. "Well what the fuck? So first they clip some Nakayama boys, then turn right around and go kill some Toshihiro? They certainly don't look to be in league with either family, but what are they out to do? And where does Yagi fit into the picture here? Was he involved with them? He doesn't exactly seem to be in the target demographic of these guys. Was he really killed by the Nakayama or is he another one of their victims?"

"Maybe the order is wrong here as well. I've been thinking about that. You know how we found him in the refrigerator?"

Like I forgot... "Yeah, it rings a bell."

"Well, we can't pin down his time of death because of it. The fridge helped preserve the body. I'm thinking that was deliberate. They kill him first but try to make it look like he was killed afterwards..."

"Bravo, kid. You're one step ahead of me. It would make sense. So they kill a Toshie first, then kill some Naka guys while using his car so it looks like Toshie handiwork and make everyone think the Naka then killed the Toshie back instead. They must be trying to set the families up against each other. But who are they and why are they doing it?"

"Unfortunately, I have no idea on the 'who' nor the 'why' part."

"Well," Mike mused, "there's no shortage of other criminal groups in this city I can think of that could maybe be trying to eliminate some competition and clear an opening for themselves, but I don't really see any of them setting their hearts on Little Tokyo. Everybody tends to stay within their own communities. We might have an entirely new player in town, like another yakuza family. But I seriously can't see these punks like Koji and Shinji and the rest of their little posse as being that potential emerging player. These guys seem like losers, but here they are in America under the radar clipping some hardcore criminals. They've got to be working for someone more powerful. And that someone is our new player."

"I agree. We've got to find these guys before any real gang warfare starts between the families."

"Yeah... We have to find a group of punks in a city of almost three million, when we only know one of them. I hate to say it but we're probably only going to find them when they make their next move. God knows whatever that will be."


Shinji had spent much of the night scouring the Web and drifting through a haze of barbiturates, the latter more so than the former. He blacked out at some point. After waking back up sometime in the morning he focused exclusively on his search, following a trail of links to articles and videos. The titles read among the same lines: JEWERLY STORE BLASTOUT; HEROIC COP SAVES OWNER; FOUR ROBBERS KILLED IN FIREFIGHT. The titles told most of the story; the articles themselves were scant on other details such as to the identity of the officer in question, but he eventually found enough to line up with what he already knew.

He left the bedroom and headed towards where he heard others gathered. Most of the crew were present. They all looked over, falling silent, waiting for him to speak first. He announced, "It was him." He got confused stares back. "It was that same fucking hero cop from the jewelry store robbery. He's the one who always drives around in that police Mustang. We're gonna find him, but no one kills him but me." The crew exchanged glances amongst themselves, some clearly having reservations, but when they turned back to him, none challenged the order.


A quiet place in Virtua City: behind a desk deep inside the 25th Precinct. For a given definition of 'quiet' at least. He hated this job. He put on his best plastic voice and asked, "Do you have a complaint?"

"Do I have a complaint?" the man who had sat down across from him repeated. "Yeah, I've got a complaint. I got arrested."

Deep breath. Keep cool. "And we shouldn't have? What were you arrested for?"

The man looked offended by the question. "For nothing! I was just at home minding my own business when some of you guys busted into my place and cuffed me!"

"Let me rephrase that... Do you know why the police were in your house?"

"Because they kicked down my door!"

"You mean you have absolutely no idea why the police came to your house?"

"Oh no, I KNOW why the police came to my house. It was because my neighbor called you guys."

"Why would he do that?"

"Because he's a Polack motherfucker."

"I meant if you knew what reason he gave the police," he diplomatically clarified.

"Some bullshit! Look, the guy doesn't like me."

Mike thought, and you clearly don't like him either, but said, "Are you saying that your neighbor called the police to your house on false pretenses?"

"Yeah, you got that right. He... what's it called... swatted me? Yeah, he swatted me!"

Okay, now the complaint just maybe gained a point of legitimacy. Most complaints were either arrestees trying to get the officer that caught them in trouble or just plain loony talk, but he'd rather have eight hours of his life wasted talking to these people than have to deal with even a single instance of actual misconduct by fellow officers. The reality was that police officers were all drawn from the singular pool of humanity, same as the criminals they dealt with, and sometimes the wrong people ended up on the force.

Fortunately, this complaint seemed to be veering away from that possibility, even if the man was not discriminating in who he was blaming. Swatters: still very much a problem in this day and age, because apparently some people thought sending cops after people they didn't like for shits and giggles was funny. However, the complainant was still of somewhat dubious credibility, necessitating a further dig into the matter. "Could I have your name, for the record?" He turned to his computer.

"Anthony. Anthony Muffoletto."

Huh- not quite the name he expected of someone who seemed like pureblood white trash. He discretely typed the name into the relevant search engine. A recent arrest report popped up. It looked like a real doozy. He tackled it chronological, starting with the official designation: domestic disturbance. Reading off the screen, he stated in a neutral tone, "It says here that your neighbor's 911 call reported that you were heard yelling at your wife for over 15 minutes." When the man didn't give any acknowledgement he asked, "Is that what happened?"

"Wouldn't surprise me. She has a problem with understanding things."

Oh boy... "And do you remember what this particular argument was over?" he asked, interested in a morbidly curious way.

"Who knows? I've had to yell at her for every goddamn thing by now."

Mike looked back to the screen, partially covering for a roll of the eyes. "Well, I'm sure she had it coming." Reading onward, he continued. "It says that when your neighbor eventually complained to you directly, you responded by threatening to shoot him with your 12-gauge shotgun?"

"That I did," the man said proudly.

"So you're confirming this account so far is entirely accurate?"

The man looked at him like HE was stupid. "Yeah."

"Just for clarification... were you actually holding the weapon or was the threat merely spoken?"

"What difference does that make?" Mr. Muffoletto asked, looking confused.

"In this case, probably not much. Do you remember what happened next?"

"That scared him off." The man looked proud again for a moment before turning back to mad. "So he went and called the goddamn SWAT team on me instead."

Without taking his eyes off the screen Mike said, "Not quite. He DID call the police. A unit was dispatched to your house and knocked on your door, whereupon you refused to open it and told them that if they didn't get off your property you were gonna blow them away. So they did, and then THEY called for backup at the scene." He didn't even bother asking for confirmation. You know, this guy kinda looks familiar now that I think about it... "Do you remember what happened after that?"

"You guys kicked in my door, manhandled me into submission, and dragged me down to the station like some kind of animal!"

"Correction: your wife opened the door and let us inside... and you were passed out drunk at that point."

"Fucking bitch!"

"Now, while I do not personally know your wife's merits or lack thereof, I can venture a guess that she saved your front door and maybe even your life." Mr. Muffoletto looked shocked at the notion. "Upon careful review, I find this complaint to be completely unfounded, and that you are a dumbass and swatted yourself."

"Hey, you can't talk to me like that," the man said with indignation.

"I shouldn't, because it's unprofessional, but I can. Now, if you do not have a legitimate complaint to file, then you are deliberately wasting our time, which is an offense punishable if we so choose. So unless you have any other official business here, I'm going to have to ask you to leave." The man shot up from his seat and amazingly left without another word. "Have a nice day, sir."


Several hours later, the police-fitted Ford Mustang pulled out of the garage of Precinct 25 and onto the street. Its departure was observed by the figure sitting on a motorcycle parked across from the building, face obscured by their helmet. As the car drove off, the rider fired up his bike and cut across the street to the opposite side, following after it. The police vehicle stood out amongst all the other traffic, so the motorcyclist hung way back to ensure the driver wouldn't notice the tail. This meant he occasionally had to drive between cars that got in the way and gun it through yellow lights going into reds. The car eventually turned into a garage entrance. The man on the bike turned down an alley directly across the street. The building appeared to be an apartment complex.

Within a minute a person emerged from the garage and walked up to the front entrance. While it wasn't possible to identify them from this distance, it was clearly a male in the 20-50 range. The man entered the building; nobody else came out of the garage. The biker switched off his ride and ran to the front door to scope out the address. He then pulled out his cellphone and placed a call. "I've found him."


DVD Commentary: The complaint department scene was actually conceived for one of the sequels and also in fact is an anecdote shared by my brother who also works in a branch of law enforcement, though it differed in a couple ways: it was a welfare check- unsurprisingly the guy had retreated from society, so a friend called the cops to make sure he was okay; the SWAT team also simply bust in and the guy did not back up his threat. Since I originally had NOTHING AT ALL between the 'let's find this cop' and 'we found this cop' scenes and absolutely no ideas for any scenes to buffer them with I swiped it. The garage scene was also thus improvised as well. And yes, said desk jockey scene was the only part to get a little current topical upgrade. Apologies if you happen to share the guy's name- I spliced together the first and last names of a couple assholes I met in real life.

I also tweaked several chapters quite a while back when I started working on this again. Turns out during my previous hiatuses I had forgotten some key details and contradicted them (at least 2 character's names even got changed!) and also essentially pre-announced the plot development in this chapter... so I hope you forgot it.

Next chapter coming... when it's done. I think I can make it somewhat fast but I am NOT promising anything. I think by Christmas sounds safe enough.