Monologue Of Ben Montana

Prolouge

It's a cruel world out there. Keeping your head above the water is a challenge. I know that everyone is a criminal. Like wasps in a hive. Like rats in a drain. Everyone is out to get you. Don’t listen to the media or the politicians. However you want to see it, it's impossible to ignore the chaos they create. I know who is corrupt and out of control. Maybe soon, you will too.

Chapter One

Ben Montana flashed his ID to the detective outside, before entering the scene of the crime. He's tall and slim, brandishing a cigarette from his lips, and a spray of stubble adorns his face. Bags hang from his eyes and his uniform hangs from his body, his dirty white shirt poorly tucked and buttoned, with a tie hanging loosely around his neck.

“Gruesome, ain't he?,” murmurs Brutus Albacore, Montana's older partner on the force. His figure was similar to a particularly ugly baby penguin. His uniform fitted him tightly, and he was short, barely reaching five foot six inches. He wasn't an impressive man but he held himself in such a way that his authority radiated from him. He clasped a cigarette in his hands and lit it, before proceeding to place it in his mouth and let it hang there like a papery rodent.

“So,” asked Montana, “what do we know so far?”

“Well boy, he ain't fallen down the stairs, I can tell ya that much.” Albacore laughed at his own joke before continuing. “We got a murder here, obviously. And we got a frypan in the kitchen covered in blood and bone shards. Don't take a genius to work that one out, I'll tell ya that much.” Albacore laughed at his own jokes again, jovially spitting smoke.

“Do we have a motive yet?” Asked Montana, as he crouched down to inspect the remains of the table.

“He's a politician,” responded Albacore, laughing loudly, only to continue in a complete deadpan tone. “We thought it would be some lefty, protesting his Vietnam continuation plans but…” Albacore trailed off, and sighed. “You're gonna love this,” he called, as he waddled out through the