In-game name: Lan
Age: 24
Steam ID: STEAM_1:0:23418480
Do you have a mic and are you willing to use it: Yes and yes.
Days of the week are you available to play: All days of the week unless I'm out of town.
Hours In-game: 12 hours
Time Zone: Central
Experience: Growing up, I spent a lot of time playing Cops & Robbers with the neighbors. Sure sometimes I was a robber but I shone as a cop.
Life on the beat was dangerous but someone had to do it. Armed with nothing but finger-pointers, I kept those streets cleaner than a mobster on his way to court. takes a small puff I put my life on the line and even my marriage to Susie-Down-the-Street. The tart couldn't understand why I did what I did and she left me. She said she'd rather play house.
Didn't worry me much. I knew of a finer woman. A woman named 'Justice' whose touch upon my heart was unrivaled. Justice was tough but justice was fair.
I was good at my job. Too good. takes another puff A few years down the road, I was forced into an early retirement. They couldn't handle the justice I delivered. That's not the reason they gave, of course. I knew it was coming. They were looking for any dirt on me. Problem was I was cleaner than punctured eardrums after a Q-Tip raid. Squeaky.
They finally found a way, though. Some political BS. They said I was 'too old to play with all the other kids' and that it was 'really weird' and I should probably hang out with people my age. People my age were the dirtiest cops out there. Dirtier than an unpunctured eardrum, if ya catch my drift.
But even I know when done is done. I knew when to bow out. I took my hat and my hard-earned pension. These days I'm on the neighborhood watch. I still stand by my radio each night. Waiting. The city's gettin' worse and it's only a matter of time.
Rules you view as most important: No unlawful incarceration of citizens. We all know they're guilty as sin but it's just a matter of time before I prove it.
Why we should pick you over the applicants: They say I spin a good yarn but I tell em I knit sweaters.
