Detective Harris had been on the Blue Cartel's trail for months. The notorious gang, named for their signature Blue heroine, a potent fentanyl laced drug that had flooded the streets of Nicholasville. The gang had always managed to evade capture with cunning and violence. But tonight, Harris had a lead. An informant had tipped him off about a drop at an old warehouse on the outskirts of town.

Broken beer bottles reflected the silver moonlight as gravel crunched beneath Harris’s feet. His heart raced as he approached the old warehouse. Inside, he found crates filled with packets of the blue powder. He couldn’t believe it. The informant wasn’t lying, and this was the break he had been praying for. His camera clicked quietly as he documented the scene. That's when he heard a noise behind him.

Turning, he saw a figure emerge from the shadows—Rico Martinez, the Cartel's enforcer. "Rico Martinez, you're under arrest for possession and distribution," he announced, badge in hand.

Martinez laughed, a cold, hollow sound. "You think you've won, detective? You've got nothing on me."

Harris snapped photos to expose the operation. "I've got enough here to put you away for the rest of your miserable fucking life.’’

Martinez's eyes narrowed, and he lunged forward, pulling out a knife. "You think this is over?" he hissed.

"Drop your weapon!" Harris commanded, drawing his gun with practiced ease. But it was too late. Martinez advanced, plunging his knife into Harris’s gut.

As the detectives body convulsed and dropped to the warehouse floor with a thud, Martinez glared down at his lifeless body. ‘’ Fuck the police,’’ he spat, before wiping the crimson stained blade on the leg of his pants