96 in a 55

The red and blue lights sliced through the darkness of the misty evening like a knife through hot butter. As the polished boots and badge climbed out of the gleaming car, the driver's hands, encased in black leather, remained still and on the mahogany wheel before him. The window sang its low, droning song as it was lowered, bringing in the sound of the officer's shoes as he approached, already writing his ticket.
"Do you know why I pulled you over?" he asked, robotically. The driver gave a small chuckle and turned his head up.
"Well, assuming you don't know about the large cache of weapons in my trunk, or the toxic chemicals in my passenger seat, or even the fact that I didn't pay for my coffee at the last rest stop, I'd say it was for my speed." The officer drew his gun and took a step back.
"Out of the car!" he ordered, aiming for the driver's chest. A shot split the breeze. The man stood firm, holding his ground. The driver hadn't moved. A second shot came, then a third, finally knocking the officer off balance. The door behind the driver's seat opened and a small pair of shoes hit the pavement.
"Also, there's an armed dwarf in the back," The policeman looked up at him in terror. The sound of a blade coming out into the world to play, crept into his ears and he watched helplessly as the little man leapt upon him and drove the blade into his throat. As he lay in the street, blood on his badge, the tiny assassin withdrew the dagger and jumped back into his seat.
"Thank you, Oliver," the driver said, still not turning his head. The only reply came as a gruff grunt from directly behind him. "Well, that's one. We've still got plenty of work to do! And the night is still so youthful!" With the push of a button, an old Ennio Morricone tune exploded through the stereo. The tires screamed and the vehicle vanished up the black pavement, leaving the flashing red and blue lights to illuminate the fallen officer.