It was Wednesday night, three o’clock am. The city was murky, damp, foggy and quiet. For Seattle, this was a typical December night. The roads were covered in sleet from a winter storm system that passed through the day before. On nights like that, people are advised to stay home. Since the crime in the city was increasing, people should not travel the streets at night alone.
             To solve the crime problem, the mayor told three men to patrol the streets at night. These brave men were Phil MacDonald, Ryan Chronic, and Don Gerety. Their first goal was to stop a serial killer who steals cars with the owner in them. He then slices their throats while they are driving. The murderer always signs his name on his victim’s forehead. He cuts “Death” into the their forehead’s skin.
             When three thirty rolled around, the three cops were dispatched for a car jacking on Martin Luther King Avenue. Filed with Adrenaline, they got into their squad cars and race to the scene. They arrived at the corner of MLK and Third Street, finding only an old man sitting on a bench. Officer Phil approached the man to question him, while the others searched the perimeter.
             Officer Phil introduced himself casually, and then asked the old man his name. The old man looked up and said, “Idabe Datkillar is my name”. Officer Phil’s next question was “have you seen any unusual activity tonight”. The old man replied “no”. The disappointed officers asked him if the name Death sounded familiar. “Yes” the old man stated. Last I heard was he was at the casino. The officers thanked the old man and gave him a dollar for his assistance.
             The three prestigious officers moved out in frenzy. Their lights and sirens were at full power. The echoing sound of the siren was ubiquitous. A few miles before reaching the casino, the
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