S1 EP13

Ollie quickened her pace as she left the locker room to catch up with Jackson, who was walking ahead of her. "Jacks, Jacks, Jacks— are you free tonight?"

"That depends. Are you asking me out on a date?" Jackson mused.

"Maybe."

He raised a brow at her. "Alright, which place are we trying tonight?"

Ollie grinned, slinging her arm into his. "So, there's this Thai restaurant at the corner of Alvarado. I passed by there during patrol last evening, and the place was packed," she described, "I mean, a packed place means nice food, right?"

"Oh, yes," Jackson's eyes widened at her mention, "Alvarado... Isn't that near Lucy's place?"

"Yeah. We can invite Lucy and John, too."

"Perfect. It's a double date then."

Ollie swatted him, "Don't call it a 'double date' in front of them, it's gonna be awkward. They're very well broken up." Jackson nodded understandingly as they met the two other rookies, who had just entered the station. "Speak of the devils..."

"Good morning, officers," Jackson greeted them with a smile.

"You two are here bright and early," John responded he and Lucy joined Jackson and Ollie down the hallway.

"Hey, if you're not early, you're late," Jackson declared.

"That's a stupid saying," Lucy cut in bluntly.

"What's her problem?"

"Uh..." John showed off the tee he was wearing. It had Lucy's startled face printed on it when she had fallen asleep during her last midnight shift— Avery's evil doing.

Jackson snickered. "I wore mine in too!"

"Same here," Ollie patted her chest, "Sorry, Lucy. But it's nice to have you close to my heart."

The officer in question sighed heavily at her fellow rookies. "It's not the t-shirt— although it is annoying," Lucy huffed, "I can't find a place to live."

"Wait, don't you live at Alvarado?" Ollie queried.

"Not for long," Lucy groaned, "They're turning my building into condos. I'm getting evicted."

Ollie nudged Jackson with a whisper. "Does that mean the Thai place might close down, too?"

"Shhh!"

"What?" Lucy turned to them suddenly.

"Nothing," Ollie and Jackson replied in unison. "You could always move back home," the latter suggested, earning a scowl from Lucy. "Or you can bunk up with Nolan. He lives in a mansion."

"Hey, it's not a mansion," John interrupted sharply, "It's a guest house of a mansion..." he turned back to Lucy, "But you're welcome to crash on the couch if you need to."

Lucy sighed at them. "Yeah, thanks. But I am determined to find a nice, clean, affordable place to live," she grumbled, "even if it kills me."

➤➤➤

"Oh, no, Officer Nolan. You will be leading roll call this morning," Grey lifted his head to the rookie who had just walked up to his usual spot at the front row. John looked back at the sergeant, baffled. "I didn't stutter. Get up there."

John's face faltered as the rest of the rookies hid their smirks. He walked forward hesitantly, receiving cheers and jeers from the rest of the officers in the room. As he took his stand behind the podium, he turned back to the Watch Commander nervously. "What now?"

"The clipboard."

John lowered his head as he picked up the clipboard on the stand. "Memo to all divisions from the Chief of Police. Complaints about police officer entitlement have risen sharply during the last few months..." he noticed a raised hand in the audience, "Sir?"

"Do you know what that means?" Grey questioned, "Police officer entitlement?"

"I assume it has to do with unauthorised perks," John replied, "Free food, things of that nature."

"And what is LAPD's policy on gratuities?"

"No officer shall receive any gratuity, gift, favour, or promise thereof, as it may result in, or be perceived as, payment in exchange for influence, bias, or direction of an investigation or enforcement of punishable offences," John narrated.

"Nicely done," Grey nodded at his recital. "Chen, Marshall, West, will you please join Officer Nolan up front?" The rookies took one look at the sergeant uneasily before getting up from their seats and making their way to the front of the briefing room; Grey watched them intently. "Have your training officers discussed this policy with you?"

"Yes, sir."

"And what was your takeaway?"

"Sir, if I may?" Lopez interjected from the back. "Businesses like having cops around. A half-priced meal every once in a while is just... community relations."

"And it's usually the exception, not the norm," Avery chipped in.

"It doesn't mean we show them favouritism," Tim added.

Grey turned to the remaining training officer. "You agree with this, Officer Bishop?"

Bishop cleared her throat, "I'm not saying I've never accepted a free cup of coffee, but like Officer Morrison said, it's usually the exception, not the norm."

➤➤➤

"I've been undercover inside La Eme for almost a year. Working my way closer to the offshoot in Boyle Heights called Ocampo Loco," Ortiz, an undercover Narcotics detective, shared, "They control the cash flow and then bundle the drug money and ship it back to Mexico."

"How much money are we talking?" John queried.

"Right now, at least a million," Ortiz replied. "The word is they're gonna ship it tonight. I was about to report it when my cover was blown by, uh, Matthew Rodriguez, who tried to kill me, so I shot him in self-defence. Uh, you know the rest."

"Officer Ortiz has bravely volunteered to go back in to protect his cover and set up our tactical operation," Grey chipped in.

Ortiz nodded. "Last time I was at the house, it was four halcones guarding the money," he detailed, "Heavy-hitters."

Grey addressed the rest of the room, "We're gonna gear up heavy, position ourselves down the street, be ready to initiate a full-blown raid on the house once Ortiz gives us the signal."

"Rookies, this is your first high-level tactical operation," Captain Andersen added, looking at each of them, "Let's be prepared."

➤

"Did you read the search warrant?" Tim asked as the T.O. and rookie pair walked through the bullpen towards the armoury.

"8531 Winchester Boulevard," Ollie recited, "Residence is an 1800s Victorian with five bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a guest house. Front door is a solid oak with a copper handle."

"Which side?"

"On the right side."

Tim nodded as he picked up a ram, examining it closely. "You know the specs of this equipment, Officer Marshall?"

Ollie nodded. "That's a Blackhawk Dynamic Entry Special Op Ram—" she sunk a little when her T.O. handed her the ram, "—weighing sixty pounds."

"Good. Hold it tight. You'll be the breacher," Tim informed flatly before adding, "You'll buy a round for every swing it takes to knock that door down."

"And if I knock it down on my first swing?" Ollie proposed; Tim stopped in his tracks, flashing a stern look at the rookie. "Right. Shutting up right now, sir."

➤➤➤

A line of officers stood outside the fence of the residence they were about to breach into, all prepared on their stances. Grey listened intently to the conversation going on the inside. When he heard the signal phrase from an undercover Ortiz, he announced, "That's the signal. Initiate."

A silent signal went up the line. Ollie felt a tap from Lucy behind her, and she passed it on, tapping Tim on his shoulder. The police started proceeding carefully around the corner of the house. A man carrying a duffel bag walked past them towards a car parked by the curb, eyeing the path of cops peculiarly.

"Police! Open the door! We have a search warrant."

Ollie moved forward, swinging the ram back and slamming it towards the door; the solid oak caved in on her first swing.

One after another, the cops poured into the house as the suspects inside scrambled in various directions in an attempt to flee the scene. However, the officers were quick and stern, already pining down suspects and shouting orders.

It did not take long for them to clear the house, with all the men assembled in the hall with cuffs. The operation went down swiftly and successfully.

"Rookies, special assignment," Grey called out to the four, "Follow me."

The four rookies walked after the Watch Commander as he led them down a corridor and into the garage with— a lot of money. On the table. Piled up taller than their heads. The rookies stared at the tall stack with their eyes widened.

"Here's what happens now," Grey cleared his throat, "You see, the money counters and the videographer are on their way. In the meantime, you four get to watch the money. Two people with it at all times. No selfies," he emphasised, pointing at the two youngest rookies, "Enjoy."

As Grey left the garage, the rookies were glued to their spots. Ollie and Jackson tilted their heads at the cash;, Lucy gaped at it; John just stared disbelievingly. All four rookies were struck in awe of the fortune before their eyes.

"Where does all this money go?" Lucy wondered.

"Cash seized during drug raids goes back to Narcotics, where it's used again for undercover ops," Jackson responded.

"That's more money than I've ever seen in one place," John added.

Ollie unbuckled her helmet and took off the gear. "I'd splurge," she confessed, "Ditch my one-bedroom-apartment, buy a big house. Maybe by the beach, maybe by the mountains with a river. With three cats, two dogs... maybe a pond with ducks. Ooh— then I'll hire a live-in chef and get all those expensive ingredients in the supermarket. Have fresh-cooked meals every day. You're all invited, by the way."

The three other rookies whirled around to her. "You already have it thought out, haven't you?" Lucy mused, "But that's not going to last you long."

Ollie merely shrugged in response. "Who cares?"

"I'd just buy a car— no, a helicopter," Lucy stated, "And learn to fly it so I could avoid all the traffic." Ollie and John nodded in agreement. "What about you?" she turned to Jackson, "What would you spend it on?"

"I'm not playing that game," Jackson shook his head instead, "This is drug money."

"Come on. We're just talking," John urged him, "A million dollars lands on your doorstep. What do you do?"

"Don't say you'd set aside thirty percent for taxes," Ollie added unamusingly, though Jackson still looked unwilling to even think about it, "Come on, Jacks. There must be something. Not even a trip?"

He hesitated for a moment more before finally giving in. "A new car, I guess," he sighed, "Or, yeah, maybe a trip. Been wanting to do a little travelling."

"Let me guess," Lucy smirked, "You'd visit police departments all around the world. Learn their techniques."

Jackson rolled his eyes. "No."

Lucy, John, and Ollie exchanged a look. The latter two nodded in agreement; Jackson rolled his eyes.

➤

An hour into waiting and safeguarding, they were still discussing what they would do with the money sitting there. John claimed that he would use it to pay for Henry's college, mentioning not to burden his son with student loans. The other rookies nodded in agreement.

"Still can't get used to the cost of living in Los Angeles," John shook his head in exasperation. "It's like you have to add an extra zero to everything."

"You know, I never really thought about money growing up," Jackson chimed, "We always just had enough, you know?"

"Yeah. That's what I thought until my parents went bankrupt when I was nine," Lucy brought up, "It took a couple of really bad years before we got back up on our feet."

"Well, I had to steal from my mom's wallet to feed myself. Most of the time, she didn't even notice the missing money 'cause she was too high off her ass," Ollie added grimly, staring back at the alluring pile of money before their eyes. "I would've killed to be sitting across from this much money... there for the taking."

"Hey, don't even joke about that," Jackson snapped firmly. "I've heard too many stories from my dad about cops who started filling their pockets, convincing themselves that it was a victimless crime, that they were entitled to a little extra compensation for their troubles."

"Okay. Well, relax," Lucy assured him, "That's not us."

"Yeah, that's what they thought at first, too," Jackson gulped. "But then you take a bite of the crème brûlée, and the next thing you know, you're doing three to five for felony theft."

The rookies shared a confused look. "I'm sorry— crème brûlée?"

Jackson snapped out of his thoughts, shaking his head. "Never mind."

➤

It was an hour past midnight, and the rookies were already dozing off. All the other officers had left after wrapping up with the arrest hours prior, leaving them with a single patrol car and a reminder to get in to shift on time the following noon.

"I'd still do the job," Jackson voiced out, "Even if I came into money."

"That's not a shock," John murmured.

"You know, I would, too," Lucy chimed in. "You've known what you wanted to do since birth, but I just figured out. There's no way I would bail now."

"Yeah, same for me," Ollie stretched her arms tiredly, "This job is... kind of all I have. It's nice to have something that gets me going, you know?"

"Getting shot at day-in day-out gets you going?" Jackson asked, slumped over a chair.

Ollie shrugged. Truth be told, the uncertainty of their shifts does get her going. Nobody knew if they would get killed on duty when they clocked in for a shift, and the constant vigilance she needed to maintain was what made her feel lively.

"Unfortunately, it's a yes," she yawned. "What about you, Nolan?"

"Having money makes things easier, not better."

"That's not an answer," Lucy muttered, "Would you quit the job?"

"And pass up on being hazed on a daily basis by training officers ten years my junior? Come on," John mused, and the other rookies chuckled.

They noticed flashing headlights pulling up by the driveway, followed by the screech of brakes. The rookies stood up at once, straightening out their gear. Two officers entered the house shortly after, one with a recorder and another with a camera.

"Alright. Officers Graser and Williams arriving on the scene. 1:17 a.m., relieving four uniformed officers," the first officer spoke into the recorder, "What are your names?"

"Nolan, Chen, Marshall, West."

"Anyone else that's come in or out?"

"No, ma'am."

"Great. Hit the road. We got it from here."

The rookies quickly moved to head out of the garage, but the two women lingered back, still staring at the money. Ollie was still fantasising about what else she would do with such an amount of fortune...

"You two coming?" Jackson glanced back.

"Just... admiring it," Ollie uttered in an afterthought.

"We might never see this much money again," Lucy added.

John shrugged in response. "If there's ever another raid and they need someone to sit and wait until the wee hours, I have a feeling it will be us."

➤➤➤

Bam— Bam— Bam—

Bam— Bam—

"Marshall!"

Bam— Bam— Bam—

Ollie inhaled sharply as the raps of knocks on the door grew louder and more violent. She lifted her head from her pillow, still confused and hazy.

"Marshall!"

The familiar — and traumatising to some extent — voice snapped her up to her feet instantly. The rookie glimpsed at her phone before dragging her legs towards her front door. The next sequence of knocks bang against her door as she swung it open.

"If you break my door, you gotta pay, dude," she huffed out groggily, registering Tim's impatient face in uniform. "Sir," she corrected fuzzily, "And doesn't shift start at noon?"

Tim eyed the rookie, who looked dishevelled and visibly sleep-deprived. "Captain told me to bring you in early," he informed.

"What? What for?" Ollie questioned, still rubbing her eyes.

"Didn't say," Tim replied flatly, examining her sleepwear which consisted of sweatpants and a crumpled tee. "Get changed. We're leaving in five."

"But my eyes are still puffy!"

"Leaving in five."

Ollie mustered up a glare, then shut the door in his face.

➤➤➤

Noon was far from arriving when the four rookies were called back into the station. They shared the same tired and puzzled expression. Ollie had come in in a hoodie and a cup of coffee in hand, still feeling out of place; Lucy was snugged in a cardigan piece, leaning against her arm; Jackson looked unfairly energetic while John joined them, still confused.

"We have a situation," Andersen declared as she entered the room along with Grey. "Money counters are telling us that we're missing $250,000."

"And you four were the only ones left alone with the money," Grey pointed out, looking at each of the rookies.

Whatever tiredness they had had minutes ago was instantly washed off with a wave of shock.

"Well, the money counters must have made a mistake," John argued.

"There's video of them entering the garage and relieving you," Grey informed, "And then they counted the money and got $750,000, and not a million."

"Let me remind you, an officer was recently convicted of third-degree official misconduct for taking $70 from a crime scene. He's serving two years behind bars," Andersen storied, "What do you think would happen to a cop who steals a quarter-million dollars?"

"But we didn't take it," Jackson protested.

"Uh, maybe the assumption was wrong," Lucy added, "Maybe it was always $750,000."

"That's not what the intel shows," Andersen insisted, "Guys on the wire saying it's a million."

"But we can all vouch for each other," Ollie spoke up. "We never had less than three officers in the room at a time."

"Not good enough," Grey stated as the rookies grew frustrated. "The only thing that will clear you is passing a polygraph."

"Now, I can't, by law, make you take one. It would have to be strictly voluntary," Andersen explained.

Jackson glanced at the other rookies. "What if we decline?"

"It's grounds for suspension, pending an investigation, and possibly could lead to your termination."

"Well, that's not much of a choice, but..." John turned to the other rookies, who all nodded in response, "Yeah, we'll do it."

"Okay," Andersen nodded, already making her way out of the briefing room, "Let's go."

"Now?"

"Now."

The rookies stood up immediately, and one after another, they filed out of the room. Ollie gulped down the rest of her coffee before tossing it into the bin. As the four of them exited the room, the remaining training officers turned to each other.

"You think one of them really could have done it?" Lopez asked.

"Not by themselves," Tim stated.

"Nolan came back into the house to use the bathroom," Bishop recalled. "One of the other three could have hidden some of the money then. Came back, picked it up later."

"There's no way West participated," Lopez deadpanned, "That kid is squeaky clean."

"Chen wouldn't get over her own guilt if she did it," Avery added, "You would've already seen it on her face."

"Well, if it was Marshall, she wouldn't get caught like this," Tim claimed.

"Sounds like a compliment, Bradford," Avery quirked a brow.

"I'm just saying," Tim sighed, "she's smarter than that."

"It doesn't matter if they did it or not," Lopez interjected firmly, "If they don't walk out of there with a flawless polygraph, they're done."

➤➤➤

Ollie walked into the interrogation room, where Andersen and Grey were already seated on one side of the table with an empty chair opposite them waiting for her. She cleared her throat uneasily as she sat, glancing down momentarily at the weird surface.

"What did I just sit on?"

"A pressure pad that registers if you attempt to try to cheat the polygraph by clenching your buttocks," Grey answered promptly.

"Is..." Ollie was taken aback by the explanation, "Is that... real?"

"You just clenched," the polygraph technician sitting on their adjacent informed without moving his eyes from the monitor. "And again."

"I—" Ollie grimaced, "That's discomforting to know."

Grey cleared his throat, regaining the rookie's attention. "Let's begin with a few control questions. Answer with a simple yes or no," he remarked. "Is your name Olivia Marshall?"

"Yes."

➤➤➤

"I couldn't stop clenching," Ollie admitted helplessly, pulling her hood over her head; the three other rookies snorted in response. "I keep telling myself not to, but the technician keeps looking at me— after every time I clenched."

"It's a psychological reaction," Lucy described. "Telling yourself not to do something is basically locking that something in your head. And you'll end up keep doing it," she turned to Jackson, "Why did you tell them about crème brûlée?"

Jackson shuddered. "I don't know. It came up naturally."

John raised a brow at him. "They were yes or no questions," he pointed out. "How does crème brûlée come up naturally?"

The Captain and Watch Commander walked over to the group of four, and the rookies got up at once.

"Boots, you've all passed your polygraphs," Grey informed.

"But this is far from over," Andersen clarified. "Go home. Detectives will contact you soon about follow-up interviews. We got to find out what happened to that money before you hit the street again."

The pair of senior officers nodded and turned to leave again after sending them home.

"Hey, you know what I like to do after I've been suspected of a felony?" John asked.

"Uh, drink?" Jackson suggested amusedly.

"Damn straight," John nodded, "I got a stocked fridge. Anyone want to join?"

Jackson nodded immediately. "I'm down. Ladies?"

Lucy checked her watch before shaking her head. "Yeah, it's barely lunch, and I should make use of the time off and go apartment hunting," she grumbled. "Ollie, can you come with? I heard you're a mean negotiator when it comes to the tenants."

"Hell yeah," Ollie nodded.

"Wait, you, too?" Jackson groaned, "But you love a drink!"

"Sorry, Jacks."

Jackson sighed deeply, spotting the group of training officers walking past them. "Hey," he called out to them with a grin, "We all got cleared."

"You're cops," Tim deadpanned, "We supposed to be impressed you're not criminals?"

Jackson stammered on his words, clearing his throat uneasily. "N-No, sir."

"Part of the job description, really," Bishop added, eyeing the rookies displeasingly, "And you won't be cleared until the money's found, but we'll do our best to try and find it."

As the T.O.s walked off, the rookies eyed each other wearily. "Is he really that intense every day?" Jackson murmured.

"Yes," Ollie sighed, "But he's gotten crankier after the divorce, though."

➤➤➤

"That place was horrible."

"Yeah, and I thought I was that good at negotiating a good price," Ollie sighed, sinking in the passenger seat. "Turns out, the walls were barely even attached."

"Nolan could fix it, though," Lucy suggested, and the other woman furrowed her brows in thought.

"Let's call him and ask," Ollie muttered, fishing out her phone and dialling John's number. As the number rang, Lucy sighed loudly behind the wheel, causing Ollie to furrow her brows at her. "Lucy, you okay?"

"No," Lucy admitted in defeat. "First I'm getting evicted, and now the missing money. It's just— It has been a shitty week."

"But none of us took it, though," Ollie reminded, "Surely the truth's gotta come out somehow."

Lucy peered at her friend with an odd look on her face. "Since when were you the optimistic one?"

"I'm not," Ollie claimed, just as the phone connected to the call.

"Hey, Ollie. You're on with me and Jackson."

"If they don't find the money, we're screwed," Lucy spoke in instead, still feeling pissed.

"We were just talking about that. I keep going over it in my mind. The only thing I can think of is that money was gone long before we ever got to the garage."

"That'll make sense, right?" Ollie wondered, "But we're no detectives. And, to quote Avery, 'We follow the facts and evidence, Boot, not what we suspect'."

"Oh, he told you that, too?" Lucy snorted.

"Mm-hmm."

"What the hell is this guy doing?" Lucy furrowed her brows as she looked into her rearview mirror; Ollie inspected the vehicle behind them through the side mirror.

"Wait. What?"

"A black SUV's riding our ass," Ollie elaborated. The car accelerated at once, relentlessly crashing into their rear. "What the—"

"He just hit us!" Lucy exclaimed, trying to keep the wheel steady while the SUV continued rummaging towards them, "He looks like he's trying to run us off the road!"

"Where are you?"

"Uh, driving south on Griffith Park Drive," Lucy replied.

"We just passed Mineral Wells Trail," Ollie added. "Hell—"

Lucy slammed the brakes when two more SUVs blocked the road ahead of them. Ollie's phone flew off her hand and fell onto the floor. The tyres screeched against the road. When they halted, Ollie quickly took note of their situation. Two cars ahead of them, one on their rear. They were surrounded, and very likely in threat— most definitely targeted.

"We gotta get out," Lucy grunted hastily. Ollie opened the car door with her off-duty piece clutched in her hand.

In sync, Lucy shot her gun at the SUV on their back while Ollie took the front. They each sent a few bullets through the window, shattering them. The motion in the vehicle grew, and Ollie sent more bullets towards both cars' doors while they made the run.

They could hear the footsteps of people pursuing them. Ollie counted three. Lucy had aimed backwards and fired at the closer ones as they advanced deeper into the woods.

➤

"Lucy? Ollie?"

John and Jackson had leapt up the instance they heard the shots fired through the phone. They immediately ran towards the garage as John hung up to call another number.

"Bishop, Lucy and Ollie's in trouble," he spoke hastily, "Someone tried to drive her off the road, Griffith Park Drive. Jackson and I are on our way there now."

➤

Ollie and Lucy ducked into a lower area and hid behind trees a short distance from one another. The former clicked out the magazine on her handgun and counted. She glanced towards her left, finding her fellow rookie doing the same.

Lucy held up two fingers while Ollie showed four. Between them, they only had six shots remaining.

Behind crowded branches, Ollie spotted one of the men. She quickly took aim and fired her weapon; the bullet missed his arm by a little, grazing past his shoulder instead. Damn it! She had given out her position.

The man furiously returned fire at her, and she was left to run.

Bullets were swiping on the ground around her feet as she jumped and ducked through branches in swift moves. The stakes were high, and she was flushed with heat. The alertness was gnawing at her, making her skin tingle.

Three shots remaining.

➤

John pulled up to the four cars in the middle of the path. They jumped out with their guns drawn, moving towards the deserted vehicles; Jackson cleared the black SUV closest to them while John made his way towards Lucy's vehicle. "Ollie's phone is in the car."

Jackson pulled out his radio. "Officer needs help, requesting backup and airship. Griffith Park Drive. Be advised, plain-clothed officers in pursuit, heading northwest into the woods."

"7-Adam-19, we're five minutes out. Hold until we get there," Bishop's voice crackled to life, but neither of the rookies listened, already beelining into the woods.

➤

Ollie stopped dead in her tracks when she peered down the hill and saw her friend being backed up into a dead end with three gunmen aiming their handguns at her. Lucy had carefully placed her gun on the ground; Ollie assumed it was as instructed by one of the gunmen.

Lucy had spotted her, fortunately, but shook her head the slightest, giving her the signal not to approach.

Ollie could tell that the man in the middle was doing the talking now while Lucy answered him grudgingly. One thing she could do was to trust her friend to handle herself while she schemed from up here.

Ollie could try to fire her shots from above; three remaining bullets for each man. But the distance created a near-impossible challenge for her to deal real and exact damage to them. It was more likely for her to miss her shots. And, firing the first bullet would attract the attention of the two other gunmen, who would be keener on going after her instead— perhaps this could be a plan of luring them away from Lucy?

Nothing was for certain right now, and Ollie's breathing was getting lighter at the thought of it.

She took out the magazine and recounted. Still three.

Lucy's face turned into a frown as she spoke; Ollie could not make out her words, though. But the former was looking increasingly dismayed. "I already told you, I don't have your money," Lucy said out loud this time, her voice reaching Ollie behind some bushes.

The money? Ollie frowned in thought.

A man pulled out a knife and charged up to Lucy. The officer tackled him down easily enough, but she was in turn knocked down by yet another man.

Not yet... Not now...

Lucy seemed to have mumbled something, which got the man in the middle to shoot at one of the guys. The victims fell at once; the middle man then switched to fire at the other one, who had run into the woods.

Now.

"Police!" Ollie emerged from the bush, sending one shot towards the fleeing guy. It struck him on the left shoulder; he raised his gun hand to fire back while he continued running. The officer ducked his shots, then immediately resumed the reversed chase.

Two more shots.

A bullet flew past her calf, missing her by inches. And in the peak of her fury, she held her gun firm and fired another shot— finally hitting the man at the back of his knees. She internally applauded him for still managing to run a few more feet before ultimately plunging down.

Man down with one bullet remaining.

Ollie exhaled deeply when the man now lay motionlessly on the ground; two pools of blood tainted the sandy terrain. She holstered her gun while approaching him, finally catching her breath. As she moved to kick his gun away from his hand, a thick blade met her ankle; she dropped to the ground at the sharp pain.

She had fallen for his trap.

He had gotten up and now had his hands around her neck, choking her. Ollie struggled against the ground, attempting to reach for her gun behind her. But the guy got to it first. In the rampage, she managed to shove his hand to the side— her final bullet missing her head by inches as the shot rang in her ear.

In the split second after the bullet left the chamber, Ollie jabbed his injured shoulder sharply, inflicting more pain on the already-aching gunshot wound. He hissed in agony. "You—"

"—are going to physically shut you the hell up," she finished.

Then, she elbowed the side of his head. Climbed back up to her feet — her ankle was stinging — sent another blow to the man. And another. And another to the injured knee. She might have heard his kneecap crunching. She did not care, nor did she back down.

The fire in her was burning fiercer than ever.

"She's... She's going to come for you," the guy spat out with a shaky breath, blood dripping out the corner of his mouth.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

Ollie sent one last punch to his nose, finally knocking the man unconscious. She flipped him around, pulled out her belt and secured his hands behind his back. It was a well-needed precautionary after her lesson learned.

Her clothes were now bloodied, scratched and torn.

She collapsed onto the ground, the cut on her ankle finally creeping up to her. Wearily, she yanked out the string of her hoodie and reached to tie it around her calf. Basic self-first-aid. A tourniquet of some sort.

She thought she heard someone calling out her name, but her ears were still ringing from the close-call bullet from before. And then she saw Jackson running towards her, as though yelling her name.

"Jacks— I can't hear you. My ears are still ringing," she managed out as Jackson crouched down in front of her, his face painted with worry at her bloodied ankle. She smacked his arm with whatever strength she had left. "What took you so long?!"

➤➤➤

"Relax. I know how to use crutches," Ollie sighed at her worried friend.

The cut on her ankle was fortunately not too deep, so she got discharged after several stitches and a memo from a doctor to stop showing up bloodied or injured in their E.R. Though, it was going to take her a few days to heal, and some advised physical therapy. She was not looking forward to it, at all.

She lifted one of the crutches to knock on the apartment door.

There was some commotion from within before the door opened, and Lucy greeted them happily. "Hey. Come in, come in, come in," she grinned, "How's the leg, Ollie?"

"Itchy," Ollie mumbled, eyeing her bandaged foot. "Anyways," she looked around the place, "Is this..."

"My new place!" Lucy announced excitedly, walking into the living area. "It's great, right?"

"Oh, um," Jackson pointed at her floor concernedly, "there's a giant bloodstain on the rug."

"Which is how I'm getting twenty-five percent off for the first year," Lucy explained with a delighted grin while Ollie snorted at her.

Ollie eyed her peculiarly. "Are you sure that's not because you're a cop?"

"Yeah. He didn't even know before he cut me the break," Lucy assured, "Landlord was super eager to get it all done, especially because I said I would take it as is."

"As is?" Jackson's jaw hung open, "Uh, you mean that—"

"Oh, yeah. Which is why you two are here," Lucy smiled at them cheekily, "You see, friends help friends clean up crime scenes."

Ollie stared at the bloodstain on the floor, then at the cleaning supplies bundled beside it. "I'll hand you guys the cleaning supplies," she suggested, "Jackson can do the scrubbing."

"Deal," Lucy nodded sharply.

"Wait— your leg's injured, not your hand!" Jackson protested.

"Jackson West," Ollie gasped dramatically, "Are you actually going to ask an injured woman to scrub the floor?"

Jackson stammered. "N-No...?"

Lucy smirked, tossing a pair of gloves to the man. "We'll get Thai after? The one from my old apartment?"

Ollie perked up at the mention of it; Jackson smiled tightly at the two women. "Okay."

"Thank you!"

━━━━━

Ollie & Jacks are literally siblings 🥹

(Which is what's gonna make his ☠️ hurt more 😈😈😈)