S2 EP2

"Okay, here we are," John announced, pulling up in front of Jackson's place after an evening out with the four rookies.

"Thank you for being our designated driver," Jackson thanked, unbuckling his seatbelt from the backseat.

"Oh, I figured you needed to blow off a little steam after the week you had," John eyed the other rookies.

"Forget about being left back," Ollie chimed in next to Jackson, "You just need to make peace with staying in long sleeves."

"Hey, you are still in long sleeves," Jackson glowered at her.

"But any time now," Ollie held her arms up in surrender, "Sergeant Grey said I'll be getting my score any day, now."

"That's great!" Lucy beamed from the passenger seat. Her expression quickly changed when she spotted a stoned-looking person wandering out of an alley right in front of them; she alerted the rest at once.

John slowly rolled forward in his SUV, stopping right at the alley. The rookies saw a hooded dealer making a drug deal with a customer. Jackson got his phone out alarmingly and called Dispatch.

"911, what is your emergency?"

"This is off-duty officer Jackson West, badge 33356," he answered, "I need a unit to my home for an on-view suspect dealing 11-3."

"I'm gonna cut around the back side, cut 'em off," John informed.

Ollie and Jackson got down from the back seat, carefully making their way into the alley. "Police! Get down on the ground. Keep your hands where I can see them," Ollie called out as Jackson kept on the phone with Dispatch.

The dealer noticed them and fled at once.

"Foot pursuit! Westbound in the alley!" Jackson shouted into the call, "Suspect's a male, white, 5'10", 200 pounds."

The dealer threw over a trash can, attempting to slow down their chase, but Ollie leapt over it easily. The pair of officers were alert and swift. The dealer did not make it far before he was run to the ground by John's extended arm at the end of the alleyway. Lucy quickly pinned their suspect on the ground, flipping him to secure.

"Suspect in custody," Ollie called through the phone as Jackson picked up a bag of drugs that had fallen out of the dealer's jacket and onto the ground.

"Yo, you slinging dope in my neighbourhood?" Jackson scoffed. Angrily, he yanked the hood off the dealer's head; he was taken aback when he recognised the man. "Mr Wilson?"

"Oh, hey, Jackson," the man wheezed out.

The three other rookies turned to him, confused.

"Jacks, you know him?"

"Yeah," Jackson's eye twitched. "He's my landlord."

➤➤➤

"Settle down. Find a seat," Grey announced as the officers scrambled to take a seat in the briefing room. "First up, I'd like to congratulate Officer Jackson West on the fine pinch last night," he resumed, "No crook is safe from Officer West, not even his landlord."

The cops broke into loud applause; Jackson was beaming. "Letter of commendation?" he tried as Grey walked over to him and handed him a form.

"Change of address form," Grey clarified, wiping the smile off the rookie's face. "Your apartment is now considered a 'house of ill repute'— and under asset seizure. We need your new address by tomorrow, even if it's Mama's house."

The rookie grimaced, and Ollie patted him on the back consolingly. "You could bunk up on my couch for the time being."

"I might actually take you up on that."

"Alright," Grey continued, gesturing to a man by the door. "This sharp-dressed man in the doorway is Detective Nick Armstrong. He'll be in the field after hours for your detecting needs." He noticed a raised hand at the back of the room. "Yes, Officer Lopez?"

All the cops turned to her. "Detective Armstrong, on a scale of one to ten, where one is 'patrol friendly' and ten is 'making us guard a cleared crime scene in the pouring rain 'cause you get 'a power trip off of it',' where do you stand?" she asked loudly.

"Lopez," Grey warned.

"No, it's alright, Sarge," Armstrong insisted, turning back to Lopez, "I appreciate a direct question. A lot of cops take off the uniform, they put on the suit. Suddenly, they think they're better than the officers in this room. I'm not one of them.

"Patrol is where it all happens. It's fast, honest, pure, raw. Eighty-five percent of all crimes are solved at the patrol level. So, the way I see it, I am here to help you, not the other way around. And if that doesn't win you over," he chuckled, "I have five dozen of the finest donuts in the break room. That's all I'm saying."

"Detective," Smitty interjected, "you think you can buy us with donuts?"

"Absolutely not," Armstrong claimed, "Maybe rent you, though."

"Okay, are we done?" Grey addressed the room of laughing officers, "Good, 'cause we're done. Be safe out there." As the room started to clear out, he called out again, "Bradford, let me see you a sec."

Tim walked up to the Watch Commander curiously, catching the book the latter had tossed in his hands.

"Chief Williams added another book to your Sergeant's Exam reading list," Grey notified.

Tim narrowed his eyes at the title while his rookie leaned over to peek. "Split Second Leadership: Leading Men in The Line of Duty."

Ollie quirked a brow at the book. "Men?"

"It's from the sixties," Tim muttered at the rookie before turning back to Grey, "How is this relevant to twenty-first-century policing?"

"Ours is not to reason why, Officer Bradford," Grey mused, patting the T.O. on the arm, "Read the book."

"Yes, sir." Tim refrained from rolling his eyes as the Watch Commander left the room. Yet another material to learn and memorise, he dreaded.

The book in his hand got snatched away before he could even open it.

"Men," Ollie murmured again, eyeing the cover of the book, "Eugh—"

Tim sighed. "What are you doing, Boot?"

"Were you not going to ask me to read this to you?" the rookie quirked a brow at him before smirking slyly, "But my condition still stands, though."

Tim rolled his eyes, instantly knowing what the rookie was referring to. "Fine."

➤➤➤

"The number-one mistake new leaders make is to think themselves suddenly infallible. The best leaders understand that even the lowliest patrol officer has something valuable to teach them— wow, that's so true, don't you think?"

Tim shot her a look. "I think it's hard enough to listen to it without you editorialising," he deadpanned, "Keep reading."

"An open mind and an open door— you know," Ollie lifted her head from the pages again, and he rolled his eyes at the interruption— again, "I am really, really not convinced that you're remembering all of these in your head."

"I am."

"Just by listening?"

"Yes. I memorise best when I hear it."

Ollie clicked her tongue. "Ah, really? That must be nice."

Tim glanced at her. "Why?"

"I mean, you don't have to go cross-eyed over a test. I swear, every single time I study for an exam, I'm convinced that I may need glasses," the rookie groaned, peering back at the pages. "It's kind of fascinating how some people — like you, for one — can just hear and remember. Consider me jealous."

"Boot, what are you on about?"

Ollie glanced at his T.O., noticing his genuinely confused face. "Um, you learn better through hearing rather than reading... Obviously, you're wired to process information differently than most," she explained. "It might just be a learning difference. No big deal."

"I don't have a learning difference," Tim claimed otherwise, a deep frown set on his forehead. Ollie slowly turned back to her T.O., mirroring his confusion. "I don't," he repeated firmer, still eyeing her oddly.

Ollie cocked her head at him, setting the book down with a surfacing grin that was hard to press down. "Tim Bradford, are you ashamed about it?"

"I am not," he assured, rolling his eyes as he continued driving through the neighbourhoods. It was his turn to interrupt her reading, now. "Is that why you draw on your notes?" he asked.

The rookie nodded in response. "Yeah. Helps with visualising."

"What exactly are you visualising when you draw Freddie at the corner of your pages?" Tim asked, recalling amusingly.

"It helps me concentrate!"

"7-Adam-19, family disturbance at 217 Evergreen."

Ollie shoved the book into the glovebox and picked up the radio readily. "7-Adam-19, copy. En route."

➤➤➤

A woman came running towards the officers just as they exited their patrol car. "They're gonna kill each other!" she yelled.

"Who?"

"My boys! They bought these military vests off the Internet, and they wanna try them out!" the woman explained hurriedly as she led the police back to her house, looking and sounding frantic.

"Wait, like, bulletproof vests?" Ollie questioned, baffled.

"Oh, I hope so," the woman grunted, pushing open the gate to her front yard; the officers followed in immediately. "They won't listen to me. Maybe you'll listen to them."

The pair of officers spotted the two men in the front yard aiming a gun at each other, where their vests covered their bodies. "Put the guns down! Put them down!" the officers bellowed.

But the two men had already fired at each other, both plummeting backwards onto the ground.

The following commotion was as hectic as it gets.

The woman, their mother, screamed at the gunshots. Ollie hollered for her to stay inside the house. Tim was still yelling at the two men to drop their firearms. One of the guys was coughing, the other sniggering at the bet he had won.

"See, I told you they'd work."

"Drop your weapon now!"

"Relax. We were just messing around," one of the guys scowled, tossing his gun aside, "J-Bag bet me the vests wouldn't work."

Ollie rolled her eyes at their recklessness, kicking one of the guns to the side while Tim dealt with the other man. "You been drinking, or are you normally this stupid?" the T.O. spat as he yanked up J-Bag, turning to hold his arms behind his back.

"Get up," Ollie instructed the other guy, Jason.

"I-I don't feel so good."

The rookie pulled aside his arm that was clutched against his chest, discovering a source of bleeding. "For hell's sake— Tim!" She quickly hauled open the vest and noticed a gunshot wound to Jason's torso.

"Look at you! You guys never listen to what I'm saying!" the mother wailed in the background.

"I won the bet," J-Bag's eyes widened.

"What bet? He's dying!"

"It doesn't matter! It was his idea to buy the vests!"

Ollie held pressure on Jason's wound to slow its bleeding as she peered to her back to check that Tim was radioing for an ambulance. The mother and son were still yelling at each other, though; their words increasingly harsh.

Fucking idiots, she mouthed out to her T.O., who responded with a defeated shake of his head.

➤➤➤

Avery was sitting by his desk, leisurely snacking on the small bag of chips in his hand. His head tilted slightly, his eyebrows were knitted closely, his gaze transfixed inside the briefing room.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" Angela's voice snapped him out from his trance.

"Oh, hey," he greeted back with a grin before nodding at the briefing room.  "Are you seeing what I'm seeing?"

Angela followed his gaze, studying the T.O. and rookie pair that were sat inside the unoccupied room. They were sitting right opposite each other, sharing a single table. One of them was hunched over a file of paperwork with furrowed brows while the other leaned back against the chair with a book in hand.

"Tim is doing all the paperwork while Ollie gets to sit back and read him a book," Avery wowed.

Angela sat down at the edge of his desk, looking both curious and fascinated. "Huh. That's interesting."

"I know, right?" Avery perked up on his chair, tapping gently against his desk. "And wait for it..."

They heard a soft, muffled thud, and Angela's eyes widened instantly. "Did she just—"

"—smacked him on the head with the book? Yes." Avery sank back in his chair, looking utterly entertained. "It has already happened a few times over the last hour."

The woman turned to the younger man, now, with a raised brow. "You've been sitting here for an hour?"

"Relax, Angela. My Boot's stuck in processing," Avery sighed. "I'm here for chips," he lifted the bag slightly then pointed to the briefing room again, "and the show. Want some?"

She eyed the packaging intently. "Is it ranch?"

"Please— I've ride with you long enough to know not to get you anything with ranch." Avery rolled his eyes as he handed the rest of his chips to the woman. "I am your favourite rookie for a reason."

"Mm-hmm," Angela chewed, "Was."

Avery sat up, gasping at her. "You like West better than me?"

"Maybe."

"But I didn't score an 81 for my rookie test," he folded his arms offendedly, "And I didn't freeze when getting shot at."

Angela mused at his directness, shrugging. "But you did nearly get me killed on your first shift," she reminded, "And almost washed out on Plain Clothes Day."

Avery gaped at her. "Now I'm offended. Give me back my chips—"

"What are you two doing in here instead of out there?" The Watch Commander's voice rang in their ears, causing both training officers to leap up to their feet.

"Waiting for my Boot."
"Lunch break."

Grey narrowed his eyes at their stammered responses before shaking his head. "Are Officer Marshall and Officer Bradford in? I got her test scores."

Angela nodded in response. "They are in there." She pointed at the briefing room—

—just as they heard another muffled thud coming from within the briefing room.

"Oof— That looks like it hurts," Avery winced. Angela, on the other hand, looked rather amused, crunching on a chip like she was enjoying popcorn for a movie.

Through the glass window, Tim had a hand over his forehead, looking like he was hissing in pain; Ollie muttered a few words to him, shook her head, and resumed reading.

"She did not hold back." Grey watched, holding a folder in his hand.

Avery tried peeking into the folder. "Sir, what did Marshall get?"

"A 94."

"Damn it!" the young T.O. cursed out, gaining the two other officer's attentiveness. "I lost a bet..."

➤➤➤

S2 EP4

The officers' gazes followed the Watch Commander as he paced in the briefing room. "We have a new Training Officer joining us this morning," Grey announced, "Detective Nyla Harper..."

He looked around the room in search of the detective in question— and found her sitting outside the room, chatting happily with another officer. With a displeased scowl, he walked over to the glass, tapping on it, gesturing for her to get into the briefing room.

"What's up?" Harper greeted.

"You're late for roll call," Grey deadpanned.

"Oh, that's still a thing?"

"Take a seat," Grey instructed with a sigh. "As I was saying, Detective Harper just completed four years of undercover work. She has volunteered to bring her wealth of experience to the F.T.O. program," he turned to look at John, "Officer Nolan, I'm sure you'll learn a lot."

"Looking forward to it, sir," John smiled back.

The Watch Commander addressed the newly joined detective again. "If you need anything, ask Lopez, Bradford, and Morisson. They'll bring you up to speed."

"Yes, sir."

"Alright, that's it. Be safe out there."

"Did you see the look she gave me?" John whispered to the other rookies.

"Yeah," Jackson shuddered. "I might actually feel sorry for you."

"Don't listen to him," Lucy shook her head, turning to John, "Look, you are a great cop. You just need to keep being a great cop, and she'll see that."

Ollie, too, gave John a consoling pat on the shoulder. "Hang in there, Nolan, hang in there."

John mustered back a brittle smile; their words had given him close to null assurance.

As the officers stood to leave the room, Avery nudged the other two training officers at the back of the room. The three of them walked up to the front, where Harper had just got up from her seat.

"Hey," Lopez greeted first, "Angela Lopez."

"Hi," Harper nodded, taking her hand to shake.

"He's Bradford. That's Morrison."

Avery brought his hand up for a wave. "Nice to have a detective here with us."

"Surprised to see a detective volunteer as a T.O.," Tim spoke instead. "Most would see it as a step backward."

"While clearly, you've never moved forward," Harper retorted calmly; Avery held back from snorting. "I get the appeal, though, surround yourself with kids who don't know enough to see through your bull," she glanced past his head and nodded behind him, "That your rookie? The one staring at the back of your head like a lost puppy?"

"She's not—" Tim glanced backwards briefly; Ollie was, in fact, staring at him intently. "Look, solid policing is anything but bull," he turned back to the detective, "Whereas cops like you spend so much time over the edge you don't even know where the line is."

"Don't get your panties in a bunch, handsome," Harper chuckled, "I'm not saying you're not tough. I'm just saying you're not me."

Tim was at a loss for words as the detective walked past the three, making her way out of the briefing room.

Avery finally snorted. "Can I say, I love her already?" he chuckled.

"Oh, I love her so much," Lopez agreed, beaming at the displeased look on Tim's face.

Tim spun around and strode over to his rookie, who quickly joined him towards the armoury, looking more bored than amused. "Not a word, Boot."

Ollie blinked at his grump. "What did I do—?"

➤➤➤

The rookies were walking down a hallway in the station, all looking rather conflicted at John's account of Harper pushing their suspect off a roof. He had a gnawing suspicion that she had done it on purpose, even after she had affirmed otherwise.

"She's right. Criminals lie," Jackson inputted, agreeing with the detective's claim.

"You really think she could've pushed him?" Lucy quirked a brow at him.

"I don't know," John sighed despairingly. "With Talia, I never would have considered it, but Harper has this real 'ends justifies the means' vibe."

"Yeah, still," Ollie shrugged. "Throwing somebody off a roof in broad daylight is, well, hardcore."

"But she has a golden ticket," John shared with them. "Maybe she thinks that'll protect her."

"Wait— a golden ticket is rarefied air," Jackson hung back in awe, eyeing the other curious-looking rookies. "My dad caught a serial killer and a bank crew in the same shift— and never got a golden ticket."

"Okay. If you were me, would you go to Grey?" John looked at his fellow rookies, who furrowed their brows in thought.

"Look," Lucy exhaled, "Harper might have a ticket, but you don't. You have the responsibility to inform the watch commander of any potential issues on the job. And an allegation of police brutality would definitely be one."

John stared at them, nodding at last. He excused himself and made his way towards the watch commander's office while the three remaining rookies watched him. When they saw Harper heading into the office shortly after him, they grimaced.

"Oh, dear..."

➤➤➤

"What is your deal with hospitals?" Tim asked her as they trudged down the hallways, responding to a call in the hospital.

Ollie was next to him, clutching her duty belt a little tightly. "Something along the lines of O.D.s and medical debts. More on O.D.s, though," she replied, "I'm sure you can figure out the rest."

They rounded the corner and approached the room that Dispatch had given, where a woman noticed them and got out of the room at once.

"Uh, we got a call about an assault?" Tim asked.

"They just barged in and started taking pictures," the mother complained; Ollie peeked into the room and saw two young individuals on either side of the boy in the bed. "My son is very sick."

The officers headed in at once. "What's going on in here?" Ollie questioned as they held up their selfie stick in front of the uncomfortable-looking patient.

"Just a second," the guy dismissed her with a wave.

"Step out in the hallway right now," Ollie called out, louder this time, finally gaining their attention. "Both of you. Now."

At the cop's stern demand, they set down their selfie stick and headed out of the room submissively.

"What's the problem, Officer?"

"They broke into my son's room and started posing," the mother stared them down.

"'Broke in' is an exaggeration," the guy objected.

"You told the nurse you were his sister!"

"I didn't say I was his sister," the woman deadpanned, turning to the cops, "I said I was a sister."

"We're just trying to help," the guy claimed. "Bella saw a Facebook post about little Cody and his fight against cancer. She has half a million followers on social media."

"I was just trying to draw attention to his plight," the woman, Bella, nodded in confirmation. "Doesn't that count for something?"

"Not without permission," Tim deadpanned. "You're under arrest for trespassing and photographing a minor without a parent's consent." The two officers proceeded to handcuff them both, looking unamused.

Bella finally scoffed. "I told you this was a bad idea."

"You need more empathy posts," the man accused sharply, "Your followers are stagnant. The consultant told us to find a sick kid—"

"He's not a consultant. He's your cousin, and he still lives with his mom!"

"Okay, enough," Tim broke them off, looking back at the mother apologetically. "Alright, I am really sorry that this happened. We will come back and get your statement."

The sick boy had climbed out of bed and walked up to his mom at the commotion outside his hospital room, looking weary but hopeful. "Honey, get back in bed," the mother urged, but the boy gestured her down to whisper in her ear.

Tim and Ollie watched curiously as the boy's mom nodded, then glanced back at them— with one request...

"Of course!" the rookie agreed in delight, already heading into the room; Tim was conned by the boy's puppy eyes and had no choice but to comply.

"Can't we get in there?" Bella asked helplessly at the corner of the room, watching the two police officers posing for a picture on either side of Cody. "Just one picture."

The officers and the boy shot her a glare. "No!"

━━━━━

Angela, Avery, Grey watching Tim getting hit with a book by Ollie: 👁️👄👁️

(Avery & Tim made a bet on whose rookie will score higher after Tim tried to one-up Avery — obviously Tim won that bet)

Q: Who's your fav character in the rookie?