Officer Mike Nasty

“He’s hard.” a deep voice rang out over the intercom. “Ladies, put your hands together for Officer Mike Nasty!”

Roaring cheers and applause filled the room as Mike slid down the stage. The usual crowd, plus a few new faces, also usual. Mike gave the women the show of their lives, pocketing thousands by the end of the night. He left the building confidently, knowing his performances only ever got better. In the parking lot, he smirked at the sight of his bike. A magnificent, police issued motorcycle gleamed in the moonlight.

“Let’s ride, Sally.” he exclaimed as he patted the back of its body.

The following morning, Mike awoke just before his alarm and got to the precinct early. Cops greeted him as he entered strutting, knowing he was the man.

“Get in here, Officer Turner.” commanded the chief. Mike was quick to enter, as always.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I need you at a crime scene, they could use another set of eyes.”

“On it, chief.” Mike felt useful, important. He hopped on Sally and drove to the scene immediately.

Mike entered the tape outside a suburban home to see a family torn to shreds. A wall of their home was ripped off and he saw scraps of flesh everywhere. Blood covered the walls and one of the detectives told him that traces of the two missing children’s bodies were found in a nearby abandoned lake.

This was not a typical scene for Mike. He was the man who leapt from car to car in police chases. He chased bad guys in a wingsuit. He entertained women for money with his body. This was a horror he never imagined. He wondered why he was sent to this case, as it was well outside of his purview.

“Sally, come get me.” Mike demanded, standing at the missing wall.

Sally was a bike, so it waited on the street while a few confused officers glanced at Mike as if he was nuts. He hopped on and went straight to his club. Though it was daytime, he couldn’t think of anywhere else to get the drink he so needed.

“Whiskey, neat, make it a triple.”

“You got it, Officer. On the house.”

“Thanks Brewsky.” Mike replied. The bartender’s name was not Brewsky, and they had worked in the same club for over 10 years. 

By nighttime, Mike was mathematically drunk. Thirty triples deep, he couldn’t count how many fingers he had on one hand. Brewsky regretted saying ‘on the house’.

Mike slumped down, still manly, but much less so. A voice over the loudspeaker caused him to posture up. “Please welcome, Officer Mike Nasty!”

Again thunderous applause. Mike stood from his stool and kicked it over, the ladies in the crowd smiled and laughed. Then he fell on the edge of the stage and dragged his body up. They were less impressed by that. One of the women yelled, “Do the slide!!”

Mike went backstage and gathered himself before putting all his energy into the slide. He launched forward and lost control. Directly into the faces of his audience Mike flew. Then he stood up and demanded tips.

“You gotta go Mike, you’re a mess.” Brewsky warned.

Mike nodded and stumbled out of the club.

“Sally?” he looked around, waiting for his motorcycle to appear. “Sally!?”

People on the streets avoided Mike as he shouted for his missing bike, though he walked by it many times while searching. His mind was clouded with the images of the poor family at the crime scene. He couldn’t believe anything could be so evil.

Finally, Mike located Sally and drove to the precinct. It was nearly morning, and the chief was already in. 

“Mike!” the chief yelled as she watched Mike stumble in. “You can’t be at work like this. And you never reported back yesterday. I’m sorry Mike, you’re done. Hand in your gun, your badge and your key.”

“You can take my gun and my badge, but my Sally… that’s her choice to make.”

“Whatever, keep the bike.” the chief just wanted him out.

Mike rode Sally for days after his double dismissal. He drove on mountain and desert roads outside Big City until the nightmares came to a climax. He went to every thrift store and electronics dealer and picked up any police scanner he could find. When he got home, Mike plugged them all into one outlet, and was shocked violently. All the scanners stopped working, and he was blasted across the room.

When Mike awoke, he could hear all the scanners still. He checked each one of them. They were busted. The scanning was taking place inside his own head. The electrocution augmented his brain, allowing him to tune into police affairs.

To the precinct Mike went. He looked at the chief, and unsure of what to say, he squinted at her for a few moments, wondering how to explain himself. As if his thoughts were communicated to her telepathically, she reinstated him, getting up from her desk to proudly give him his badge.

“You’re one hell of a cop, Turner.” she said enthusiastically.

Mike squinted at other cops too and it seemed he could make any of them do his bidding. He tested this on the mailman, squinting at him for minutes, but the guy just asked one of the other officers to please help him. Enough messing around, Mike thought. 

Mike hopped on Sally and followed the first report he heard.

Though tortured by the aftermath of those heinous acts, he would make certain to thwart the advances of evil whenever possible. Officer Mike Nasty was not just back on the force, he was the force. He realized he left his gun with the chief, but luckily, he was carrying a few extra pistols.