RoboSheriff stepped forward with jerky robotic movements, each step accompanying by the whirr and hiss of hydraulics mixed with cutting edge 1980s inspired electronics, then spoke once more. “Come quietly or there will be… trouble.”

“Barbecue this tin-plated pig, boys!” shouted the head hooligans. Several of the remaining hooligans ran forward with Molotovs while they reached for their never-ending stash of personal Molotovs.

The law-giving robot analyzed the scene but did not repeat himself. The moment the first Molotov went flying his way, a compartment opened in his right leg. He pulled out a massively oversized handgun and shot the Molotov out of the air. The sound of gunfire from the oversized machine pistol echoed like the thunder of a cannon in the early evening air.

The Molotov exploded in a ball of flame that soon soaked the ground. He looked at the hooligans from across the flames then spoke once more in his robotic voice. “Good news, scum bags. You are no longer under arrest.”

“Huh?” asked the hooligan who had thrown the Molotov.

RoboSherriff rapidly fired off several three round bursts from his oversized machine pistol. Each of the hooligans took multiple rounds to the head and chest. Bone and bits of flesh exploded outward from multiple points of impact. Once hooligan was hit in the chest with enough force to send him flying sideways atop a car. Bullet physics, it seemed, were not a concern for RoboSherriff.

“Be cool man!” shouted one of the hooligans.

“Drop it!” RoboSheriff indicated the length of chain the man was holding. The hooligan stupidly threw his chain toward the cyborg super cop and tried to run for it.

The cars obscured his line of vision. Forced to improvise, RoboSheriff estimated the variables then turned slightly to the left and fired one round. The bullet ricocheted off a metal pole near the fleeing hooligan and neatly ripped through the side of his head. Blood shot out the side of his head in a rather artistic display that delighted a certain cosplay ninja and thoroughly shocked the few remaining hooligans.

The leader of the hooligans finally got his choice of stolen car started only for a bullet to rip through the windshield and neatly pierce straight between his eyes. His skinny girlfriend, largely forgotten in all the madness, shrieked from the back seat.

RoboSheriff finished cleaning up the hooligans, only to come face to face with the urban mimic. During the routine police investigation, it had happily minded its own business. The small pile of corpses that it collected had kept its attention while it fed.

“License and registration, please,” said RoboSheriff as he stepped into the outer lane where the mimic had made its picnic.

The metal monstrosity revved its engine, no doubt thinking that this was another mimic come to challenge it for its meal. Robosherriff pointed toward the beast. “You have the right to remain silent. I suggest you use it.”

Enraged by what it took to be a threatening gesture, the mimic roared like a jet engine and peeled out toward the cyborg officer. Its horn blared angrily, but RoboSheriff did not bother to move out of the way. Just before the car rammed into him, the pavement under his feet cracked.

The mimic rammed him at high speed, but RoboSheriff did not budge in the slightest. The mimic, however, shrieked at him. Its precious grill had dented in a bit when it rammed him, and now its radiator was leaking a viscous glowing green fluid that did not look like it belonged in a radiator.

Its front end morphed into a steel fanged nightmare and tried to bite into officer Barclay, but the RoboSherriff caught the hood as it descended. Gripped in the uncompromising vice-like grip of robot justice, the mimic soon realized that it had made a grave error.

Round after round of explosive bullets tore through its engine block. Were it an actual car, that would have been the end. As things stood it was only moderately injured in the brief exchange.

It wriggled desperate as its engine revved anemically. Caught in the hands of a far stronger machine, it took all of the force its engine could muster to pull back. Its hood was ripped off as the price that it paid, but the robotic officer could not keep hold of it.

Dragged forward by the reverse momentum of the car, RoboSherriff was forced to release his anchor spikes. He stepped forward and began to fire at the mimic once more. Its window took several heavy hits and then exploded inward. In path were the officer stood, two deep holes marked the spot where he had stood his ground.

The mimic’s tires burned rubber, in fact they burned so much rubber that its left rear wheel burst. It skidded sideways and hit the concrete curb of the parking lot. It flipped over sideways and took a moment to get its bearings due to its shock.

“Dead or alive, you’re coming with me,” said the officer. RoboSherriff overburdened his battery a bit and hopped his oversized metal ass atop the thing’s engine. It gripped the roof of the car with one hand and fired down into its engine block a few more times.

The mimic roared like an engine and tried to throw him off by swerving weakly to the left and right. They seemed to be at a stalemate, however. The car did not seem to be able to injure him. It even played the funeral dirge on its horn, but it did nothing. RoboSheriff, however, was starting to run low on ammunition. It was something that he did not relish, or frequently experience or that matter.

His ammo ran dry, so he stored his weapon and began trying to punch the mimic in the engine block. This did little to help the situation and he nearly lost his grip.

Unable to think of anything else, the black and chrome lawgiver opened his left hip panel and pulled out a small circular explosive device. He had to let go of the roof to arm the device, and it was around this time that the mimic finally managed to sling itself around fast enough to rip free of RoboSheriff’s grip.

It was too late, however. A little present had been left behind. A thunderous explosion rocked the area as the mimic’s engine flew apart under the intense pressure of the blast.

RoboSherriff did not escape entirely unscathed. He was knocked back into a nearby car with enough force to dent the door and shatter the driver’s side window. However, he recovered quickly and rose up with a whirr and hiss of electronics and hydraulics.

The mimic poured viscous fluids from its ruined front end for a time. Then, as though it were going to sleep, its headlights dimmed.

“Thank you, for your cooperation,” replied RoboSheriff.

One more piece of business to attend, he turned his lower half then swiveled in place so that his top half faced the same direction. He slowly walked over to the car that the skinny hooligan hid inside earlier.

He pulled the door open and looked down at her. She shook her head rapidly, snot flowing from her nose.

“You are under arrest,” he said. “Do not resist.”

“O-ok…” replied the hooligan. Any desire to cause trouble and act like a low life had left her. System generated monster or not, this was scary.

He pulled her from the car and led her to the back of his patrol car. Once she was seated inside, she bit her lip then asked, “What do I do now?”

He looked her over. A series of words and numbers flashed through his head. Several prompts appeared for him to choose from. The hooligan was apparently a minor. So, a proper statement needed to be made. “Don’t talk to strangers.”

She blinked slowly, her head tilting to the side in the process. “Wha—” she began to ask, only for him to shut the door and cut off her words.

RoboSherriff slow walked back to the store front then looked up toward the roof. “Citizens, you have experience traumatic events. Do you require assistance?”

“My friend is injured!” called the Crimson Sharde.

He remained silent for a few seconds then responded, “An emergency response unit has been dispatched. Please remain here until they arrive.”

His lower half turned to the side and then his top half turned as well. With jerky robotic steps he returned to his patrol car. Not long after, he drove away.

“This… happened?” asked Ashton.

Sharde grinned at her then blinked. “Oh man!”

“What? What is it?” asked Ashton, her eyes wide.

“I forgot to ask for his autograph…” replied the heroic cosplay ninja.

Ashton sighed and closed her eyes. Hopefully that emergency response team was a real thing. She wouldn’t be going anywhere for a while, either way.