Kyber City, a town in tumoil. The divides between rich and poor, black and white, men and women grow worse every day. The newspapers would have you believe that life has gotten so bad that even honest, hardworking citizens feel the need to arm themselves against the tide of crime and violence. A true K.C. resident would say there's such thing as an honest hardworking citizen in this city. Life is hard here and, for many, crime is their only hope. For some it is hope of escape to the imagined greener grass out of state. To others it is simply the hope of bouncing cars and tooth jewelry.

Holding back the inevitable tide of crime is the much maligned K.C.P.D., still in the throes of 3 dozen external investigations into police brutality, ineptitude and institutionalized racism. At present they have a third of the number of officers needed to get to every call. Lack of funding and recruitment difficulty have led them to look further afield for new police officers.

It is into this city that you arrived, fresh faced and innocent. You hoped to protect and serve and if possible, be a badass. Kids from the country often think like this. On the day you joined you walked into the academy with a grin on your face and two bags of all your worldly possessions. At the desk the grey haired but fierce looking recruiter peered over his gold rimmed reading glasses, eyed you up and down, then sighed and muttered a small prayer for you under his breath. The K.C.P.D. were in no position to refuse you and in the academy your written test scores went a huge way into balancing out your poor physical scores. Strangely not a single recruit failed the course and after an exhausting 2 weeks of training you were graduating as a full police officer.

You look down at your freshly pressed blue shirt and see your golden badge glinting in the noon sun. Above it is you name badge.