When the bullet failed to fire from the chamber, Ollie took advantage of the flicker of a second of Farah being confused with charging forward and tackling her. Farah was still clinging onto the gun when Ollie wrestled her grip for it; the latter managed to unlock the safety and, in the commotion, pulled the trigger twice.

Both bullets flew towards the floor and the wall, but it was enough to signal the officer upstairs.

Ollie crashed her forehead against Farah's face, causing the gun to slip out of the latter's grasp, and the officer kicked it out of their reach. The brunette, now furious, lunged towards the cop, causing them both to fall onto the floor. Farah tackled Ollie for her spare gun by her ankle. Smart. But instead, she earned herself a boot to the nose.

Morrison, where are you?

Ollie got out her duty gun and aimed it at the other woman, who had now raised her arms in the air helplessly, fountains of red still flowing down her face.

"Turn around. Interlace your hands behind your head," Ollie commanded. The officer moved forward carefully and cuffed her wrists, securing them before plucking the radio out from her waist, "7-Adam-13. One suspect in— 7-Adam-13? 7-Adam—" Ollie was met with the static on her radio, "Hell's sake—"

However, before she could even shove her radio back, the door to the basement flung open again.

There stood Mr Owens with a pistol in his hand.

The man did not waste a second before sending three bullets at Farah.

Ollie quickly bounced away, taking cover behind one of the large piles of boxes.

Morrison, where the fuck are you?

"Officer Marshall!" Mr Owens barked out, "I told you there's nothing illegal here. Why won't you just listen? Now, I gotta kill you, too." He croaked in laughter, shooting a few more bullets in random directions.

A bullet flew through the cardboard box just on the right of where Ollie was at. She jumped up, returning a few more shots before skidding over to another spot. Clouds of white from the damaged boxes rose to the air, and she tried her very best to avoid inhaling the powder.

Ollie carefully snuck towards another tower of boxes, finding a small gap of light between them to examine Mr Owens's position. He stood next to Farah's lifeless body; more bullets flew closer to Ollie's direction, and she ducked back down immediately. The bullet opened a tear in the box containing a flat can of what was supposed to be cat food.

She picked up the closest can, wedging the lid open while maintaining the furthest distance she could from the can of powder. Coke bomb? That shall substitute her smoke grenade.

Bang— Bang—

Thirteen... Fourteen...

Bang—

The instant she heard the click of the empty chamber, she knew it was her go time. Rising from her hiding point, she hurled the can at the man in the room.

Shit— Farah's revolver!

Before Mr Owens made it to the gun in the corner, Ollie sent two bullets in his direction. One pierced his forearm while the other lodged into his waist—

"AHHH!"

The door got busted down this time with brutal force, and a squad of police officers pooled into the cramped room, with Morrison leading the front and Lopez and Bishop, along with their rookies, following after. "Guys, there's cocaine in the air!" Ollie warned aloud.

"Ollie!" Lucy gasped out as the others filtered towards different positions in the room.

Ollie sunk to the floor with a sharp exhale. With the adrenaline of almost getting shot at by two people wearing down, she could sense the immense exhaustion that was going to follow.

"We're Code 4 in the base—"

"Yeah, those don't work down here," Ollie shook her head at Morrison. "Wait, are you—?"

"He brought a baton to a knife fight," Bishop answered instead.

"Don't worry about me. I'm pretty much fine," Morrison managed an assuring smile back at her. "Just, um," he peered down at his rib in an afterthought, "sliced."

"Yes, yes. Now that you've seen that Marshall's fine and well go get yourself stitched up," Lopez patted the younger man on the shoulder, urging the officer back upstairs, "Also, call for an R.A. unit down here!"

Morrison holstered his gun at last and was clutching the side of his body as he disappeared back out the door.

"You should probably get checked out, too," John suggested.

"Right," Ollie groaned; Lucy helped her up, and they trekked past the commotion of scattered bullets.

"Hey, Officer Marshall, you did this?" Lopez questioned before she left the basement, pointing at Mr Owens's gunshot wounds; the R.A. unit had just entered with masks on.

Ollie stared at the man's red-dyed clothes. "I was aiming for his elbow and knee..."

Lopez raised a brow at her, nodding at the rookie. "Nice job."

➤➤➤

The pet store had erupted in flames shortly after they had cleared the scene.

Mr Owens cackled like a madman.

Ollie stared sullenly as all that she unravelled — all that she had to withstand to unravel — went up in flames.

She had insisted on personally seeing Mr Owens in cuffs before she would accept medical treatment. Then that extended to pointing to the detective on call about the bits she managed to uncover in the past few hours.

The explosion sounded right as she stepped out of the building, throwing her off her feet. She was lucky to have only suffered minor cuts and bruises, but the firefighters insisted on checking her for smoke inhalation at the hospital. She refused. She hated hospitals. So, she was now stuck behind an ambulance with an oxygen mask over her face as she watched the LAFD in action to attack the fire.

"Bomb squad confirmed it's C4," Tim informed, sitting down opposite the rookie. Ollie looked enraged and tired— mostly enraged, and she barely reacted to his presence. "Hey," he called out again, somewhat getting her attention this time, "Are you okay?"

"No," Ollie answered while leaning limply against the cabinet's wall.

He climbed into the ambulance now, taking the seat opposite hers. "Were you hurt?"

She examined her uniform, which was now a rather tattered-looking one. Her tie had long been disposed aside, and she now had on the navy wool top more as a layered top, with the buttons undone and the inner white tee peeking in the middle. "Long sleeves saved me from most of the burn," she noted, sensing his concerned watch. "I'm fine, Tim."

He offered her a weary smile. "Are you?"

"I'm just... pissed," she sighed. "It wasn't just a drug lab down there. It was more. They had contacts, orders... so much more," she shook her head, "And there's no evidence now."

When she finally lifted her eyes to him, he could see the weariness behind her look, seemingly consuming her from within. "I'm sorry," he offered.

"Yeah. I am, too," Ollie sighed, lowering her hand with a frown. "What about you?"

"Put the mask back on," Tim urged at her before asking, "What about me?"

"I heard you got shot at again in the parking lot," Ollie reminded him, "I also heard that Jackson ran over the guy — literally — and saved your life."

The T.O. nodded slowly. "He did."

"Does that mean you're giving him a second chance?"

Tim watched as the rookie perked up, a change in her gloominess. He nodded in response but also shrugged lightly. "He still has to overcome his problem," he explained, but the answer was more than enough to brighten up her face. "Anyways, who's Valentina?"

A name she learned from a deeper part of her life. A name that had Farah scared to her core. A name that she used to win the drug bust.

"Don't know," Ollie replied truthfully, "I just heard the name a couple times when my mom locked me in her closet." Tim shot her a concerned look, and she sank back in her seat. "Oh, yes. Wonderful childhood, if you couldn't already tell," she added sarcastically.

Another individual climbed into the back of the ambulance, glancing at the two who were already inside. "Hello, you two."

"Morrison, my man!" Tim smirked, clapping Morrison on the back, "Finally busted this one."

"I know, it's been years." Morrison's entire being was radiating with smiles as he plopped onto the seat next to Ollie. "But I can't take the credit," he pointed over at the rookie, "Your Boot here did all the talking, figuring out, and went down there and busted it."

Despite Morrison's beam, Tim's face dropped a notch. "What?!"

"Yeah, she was awesome! She was—"

"You let her go down there on her own?" Tim cut the younger T.O. off sternly, "She could've got killed."

Morrison blinked back, not a fan of his glare. "You said challenge her. 'Give your worst'," he quoted their exchange from the morning, "Remember?"

Morrison maintained an even expression while Tim appeared furious. Ollie just cocked a brow at them.

Tim jerked out of his seat and pulled the other T.O. out of his seat; Morrison yelped but was ultimately dragged out of the ambulance with less force.

Tim now stood in front of the younger T.O. with his hands on his waist. "She could've gotten killed," he repeated firmly.

Morrison briefly glanced back at the rookie in question, who was clearly observing their exchange with much interest. "Yeah, okay, okay. She could've. And that's on me," he finally owned up with a huff, "But she didn't. And maybe you should trust her more."

Tim peered over at her, too — she tilted her head, amused — then back at him. "She's a rookie. Everything could've gone wrong."

"She is still here, and she can hear you two," Ollie interjected flatly.

Morrison stood rigid on his spot, crossing his arms at the older T.O. "She's a rookie that saved your life and busted a drug lab within her first month on the job. You can't deny that that's a pretty impressive record already."

Tim did not argue back, merely rolling his eyes as he walked away. Morrison grinned triumphantly and climbed back onto the ambulance, wincing at the freshly stitched wound on his rib.

Ollie lowered her oxygen mask again. "I don't think he likes you."

"Then you're blind. He clearly adores me," Morrison cooed, sitting down by her side. Both officers had been advised to rest by a very bossy E.M.T., and they had all the intentions of doing exactly so. "I know Bradford's never gonna tell you this, but you did great today."

"Thanks." A smile formed on her face, and Ollie nodded at him gratefully. Yet her eyes wandered to Tim, who was liaising with one of the fire department sergeants on the scene.

He was right about one thing: she could have gotten killed down there. As much as she would like to present a strong outer shell, there was a split moment where she was terrified. But she tried not to think too much of it.

"Alright, Boot. I'm only gonna say this once, so listen clearly," Morrison cleared his throat curtly, "My sob story is that I've only really felt comfortable with being myself a few years ago, but until today, I still feel like I may never get a shot in my fairytale love story. I get crushes all the time but I'm too much of a coward to really do anything about it. And—" he took in a deep breath, "Tim Bradford has a very, very fine ass."

He took a slow look over at the rookie, who gaped at him in pure horror. "I don't think you want me to tell Grey that," Ollie blinked, her eye twitching, "I-I don't think I can? Is that even appropriate—?"

Morrison laughed. "That's for you to decide," he winked. "I've told you something personal. You decide if you wanna get your day off with all my unrequited love."

"That's not f—"

A soft meow interrupted her words. Both officers perked up, glinting at each other before hopping out of the ambulance. Morrison circled the vehicle to look for the feline; Ollie peeked under the ambulance and gasped.

"Hi... Hey, you little cutie," she whispered, carefully lifting the kitten from the side of the wheel and wrapping it in her arms.

It was the cat with a missing ear.

➤➤➤

The four rookies stood in a line facing Sergeant Grey, who paced before them with a taunting smile. The four T.O.s sat by a round table to their side; they, too, were interested in learning some secrets about their peers.

"The moment of truth is upon us," Grey declared, "End of shift. Time to come clean. What did you learn about your T.O.s?" He stopped his pace in front of Jackson. "Officer West."

"Sorry, sir. I was unable to gain any insight into Officer Bradford," Jackson answered, gulping when he saw Tim's stiff watch at him.

"That's disappointing," Grey declared, proceeding to the next rookie. "Officer Chen?"

"I, too, failed in my assignment, Sergeant," Lucy responded firmly.

Grey sighed, stepping over to John. "Officer Nolan?"

John shook his head. "Sorry, sir. Just as stumped as the others."

Grey nodded unamusingly at the three rookies, moving on to the last victim. Ollie peered at Morrison as the Sergeant approached her; the T.O. simply shrugged.

"That leaves you, Officer Marshall. You can literally say anything and win the contest," Grey stopped in front of her, "And Officer Morrison is much well known as an oversharer."

Morrison furrowed his brows at the accusation; the other T.O.s nodded in agreement.

Ollie drew in a breath. "Guess I was out of luck today, sir."

Grey let out a dry chuckle, glancing over at the four training officers. "Okay, fine. So no one wants extra credit," he concluded, "I guess we'll start at the basics. Tomorrow morning, you will have a quiz on your rook books."

The rookies' expressions fell; Ollie tried her best not to physically roll her eyes, though she definitely did so in her head.

"Study hard, 'cause eighty percent is considered a fail in my house. Dismissed."

The four rookies went off to the lockers, all murmuring in contempt under their breaths. Ollie changed back into the tee and jeans she came to work in, combing out her hair. Lucy had been grumbling for ten minutes now, and Ollie felt too lifeless to give her friend a response more than 'Yeah's and 'Right's.

Ollie bid Lucy goodbye before exiting the locker room hastily, her mind already planning out the rest of her night, with the most important question: To nap or not to nap?

"Officer Morrison," she caught up to the man in a vest at the parking lot, "Rain check for the drinks? I kind of have a quiz to study for now."

Morrison snickered at her misfortune. "Of course, I'm not gonna let you stand me up," he shrugged, "Also, it's Avery. Come on. After today?"

The rookie nodded with a smile. "Ollie."

"I know. Tim says you hate to be called not that."

━━━━━

Ollie and Avery are besties 🙂‍↕️