S3 EP6

The officers were tasked with working in the California Covert Operators Association convention as site securities, with the Bradford/Marshall pair drawing the short straw of 'welcoming' every guest that rolled into the hotel.

"Hey, do you work the convention every year?" Ollie asked, mainly out of boredom, after the car they had just checked drove off.

"No. L.A. hasn't hosted one in a long time," Tim replied. "But I did go with Isabel once."

"Huh," the rookie cocked her head curiously, "What kind of classes do they teach?"

The T.O. shrugged in response. "No idea. Patrol isn't allowed to know U.C. trade secrets. So I just ordered room service, worked on my tan."

"You worked on your wha—"

The next car screeched to a halt in front of them, with the driver's side door already swinging open before the vehicle even came to a complete stop. Tim was slightly taken aback when the driver leapt out, being a face that he knew. "Bradford!"

"Mack!"

"Ugh! You bastard!" Mack gritted, hitting the cop in the arm. "You get prettier with age."

Tim nodded with a chuckle, staring back at the man. "Yeah, and you're still the same part Neanderthal," he mused, turning to his rookie, "Ollie Marshall, Mack Daniels."

"Hey, how are you?" Mack grinned at the rookie on the other side.

"Bored, actually," Ollie replied with much honesty, causing the man to laugh. "But nice to meet you."

Tim lowered his head towards the window. "Beth, how are the kids—" But he quickly realised he did not recognise the woman in the passenger seat.

"Oh, uh, this is actually, uh, my friend, Candace," Mack clarified hastily.

"Hi," Candace murmured, "Mack's right. You are pretty."

Tim mustered back a weak smile, noticing his rookie's fondly amused look on her face. "Marshall, why don't you go and get Candace's info?"

"On it," Ollie answered, stepping closer to the car before lowering her head to the woman by the window. "Hi, can I get some I.D.?"

Candace hummed at her sweetly, resting her face against the window frame. "Oh, honey, you can get more than just my I.D."

"U-Uh," Ollie chuckled lightly, "Flattered, but not interested— I.D., please?"

Candace produced her identification to the officer with a small sigh, watching as the latter record down her details on the tablet. "Your boy toy over there could join us as well," she put forward again.

"He's not—" The image in the rookie's mind turned feverish. "You know, I'm sure he's just as uninterested as I am," Ollie managed back weakly, handing back the woman's identification. "Have a nice day."

"Oh, that's a shame," Candace pouted, turning back to the driver's side. "Mack! I got a spa appointment!"

Mack glanced back briefly. "I gotta go," he muttered, patting Tim by the side of his arm, "Hey, it's good seeing you, bro."

"Yeah. You, too," Tim sighed in response.

When the car drove off again, Ollie caught a last glance at Candace, who was still mouthing 'Think about it' to her. She looked fairly disturbed at the repeated offer. "He seems... nice."

"Yeah, believe it or not, he used to be the most clean-cut guy I ever met." Tim sighed, peering over at his rookie. "Why do you look like that?"

Ollie turned her head to him slowly, her expression turning increasingly unsettling. "How interested are you in a foursome?"

Tim blinked back at her blankly. "I'm sorry— what?"

"Yeah. Candace over there just invited me to one," Ollie shuddered, "Well— invited us."

Tim mirrored her horrified look now, inching back to his spot by the hotel's entrance. "I hope you declined."

"Wh— Of course, man!" Ollie scoffed, looking mildly offended, "Who do you take me for?!"

➤➤➤

Ollie was having a difficult time finding the washroom around this grand hotel lobby. Left and right were, well, undercover cops, with stories to share and a wee bit too many to drink.

"Women make up just twelve percent of law enforcement. But they're attacked almost twice as often as male officers..."

Her feet stopped walking just as she passed by one of the ballrooms; the rookie carefully retraced her steps, scanning her surroundings, before eavesdropping through the gap in the door. Nyla's voice radiated in the room full of female cops, just like her.

"...And yet, male officers are three times more likely to fire their weapon, they are three times more likely to get injured while on duty, and they make up ninety-five percent of citizen complaints. Which begs the question, are women just better cops?" Nyla asked with a smirk, "Oh, you better believe it."

As the room broke into cheers and applause, Ollie felt a tap on her shoulder, startling her.

"You're not supposed to be listening," John reminded her.

"Oh, come on, Dad," Ollie teased back. "If you don't tell on me, I'll be fine."

John sighed in defeat. "Hey, rules are rules. But I'm already on thin ice, so I was never here..." And with that, he slipped away from the corridor.

Ollie pressed her ear closer to the gap to hear Nyla's talk.

"This seminar today is about being a female undercover cop and the unique risks that that poses. Now, I will warn you, this is not gonna be an easy ride. Some of what you're about to see is hard to watch. But if we can learn from the UCs who died in these videos, then maybe we can save some lives. Are you with me?"

Curiosity got the best of her, and Ollie did try to poke her head in to take a glimpse.

But just as she tried to do so, the woman at the podium cocked her head at the rookie, her smile dropping.

Realising that she got caught, Ollie shut the door at once.

"Marshall."

The rookie spun on her feet to meet his stern, unamused expression— got caught twice. She offered a guilty smile in return. "Hi...?"

"Thought you were running to the bathroom," Tim deadpanned.

"I was— am," Ollie nodded with a gulp, already backing away to run for it, "I am now."

Tim shook his head when his rookie scurried off, eyeing the sign outside the ballroom with an eventual sigh.

Women Undercover

➤➤➤

Ollie headed back to the hotel's drop-off zone, catching a stern look from her T.O. when she returned to her position once again.

"So, you were spying on one of the seminars?" Tim asked.

"Would you believe me if I said 'no'?" Ollie tried, but instead, she earned herself a glare. "Okay, fine. Maybe a little. But what's the big deal? I'm a cop, too!"

"The likelihood of patrol officers getting fired or flaming out are much higher than ranked officers. The information and tactics the CCOA present are so unique and so sensitive, they're literally on a need-to-know basis," Tim warned firmly. "Got it?"

"Yes, sir." Ollie sighed at last, just as another car rolled into their zone; Tim's eyes widened when he saw the driver.

"Tim?"

"Beth," the officer addressed, still looking stunned. Ollie watched interestedly as her T.O. retrieved the woman's I.D.

"I'm here to surprise Mack," Beth explained, "He's barely been home the last three months."

Tim chuckled back weakly. "I bet. Yeah, undercover work's a full-time gig."

"Is he here yet?"

"Yeah. He rolled through a few hours ago," he nodded rigidly, "It's great seeing you."

"You, too."

When Beth drove on, Ollie walked over to her T.O., looking a blend of bewildered and amused. "You're not gonna give her a heads-up?"

"No way I'm getting in the middle of that," Tim spared her a glance.

"Yeah..." Ollie grimaced. "Mark my words, that's not gonna end well."

➤➤➤

"I am his wife! Open the damn door!"

"He doesn't want to see you!"

The shouting in the hallway was loud enough to draw the officers to it.

"Mack, I'm done. Can you hear me? You're never gonna see your sons again!"

Tim headed towards Beth outside a hotel room immediately. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

"Mack's in there with some stripper whore," Beth cried. "He's wasted out of his mind."

The cop peered into the room, through the gap that Candance had created by the connected door chain. "What's going on?" he questioned.

"Nothing! We're just hanging out."

"Get Mack, I need to see him," Tim voiced out urgently.

"No, he's sleeping— I think— I don't know! He won't talk to me!" Candace freaked.

"Open the door!"

"N-No, I can't."

"Hey, back up!" Ollie shouted instead, lodging a kick that flung the door right open. Candance had backed away, still in tears, and Beth rushed into the room right after the two officers, staring at her husband in the bed in horror.

Tim sped forward at once, checking for Mack's breathing. "He's not breathing."

"He must've mixed alcohol with drugs," Ollie noted, seeing the bottles of liquor by the table. "Tim— Narcan," she reached for the back of her duty belt and tossed the item over to him hurriedly, then quickly pulled out her radio. "Control, 7-Adam-19. Send an R.A. to the Augustin Hotel, 9212 West 6th Street, Room 623. Adult male, possible O.D."

Tim was still performing chest compressions on the man on the bed, beginning to look frantic when he was getting no response; Ollie took a wavering step back, watching the oh-so-familiar sight of trying to bring back a person on the verge of overdosing.

Mack's eventual gasps and coughs allowed the room of people to exhale in relief.

"You're all right, man. You're all right. I'm here, okay? Beth's here," Tim muttered, helping the man up. "You're okay, bud. Try and sit up."

Mack was still in and out, finding his wife in the hotel room. "Beth... baby..."

"I can't do this anymore," Beth declared shakily, whirling around to leave the room.

"Wait, wait, wait. Come back! I love you."

Candace scoffed at him. "You said I was the one you loved."

➤➤➤

The pair of officers had loaded Mack onto an ambulance and sent him off; whichever woman followed along was no longer their business.

Ollie eyed her T.O. fixedly as he watched the ambulance leave, the sirens growing softer by the second. Tim finally let out a long breath, his head lowered, but she still saw the troubled face.

"How you feeling?" Ollie asked, and he turned to her wearily.

"Fine."

"No, you're not. You've spent two whole years worrying if you'd find Isabel O.D.'d at the back of a dumpster. And, in a way, you've just seen your worst nightmare come true," she offered him a weak smile, "The resemblance is there. I would know."

Tim sighed heavily. "Yeah, that was tough to witness," he confessed, shaking his head. "Do you always carry Narcans with you?"

"After how I grew up?" she peered at him, "You bet."

Tim nodded quietly, taking in the momentary peace after saving his friend from himself. He turned back to his rookie after a beat. "How are you?"

Ollie shrugged; not immune, but also not quite numb to the experience. "Same old."

➤➤➤

"Hello," Nyla greeted the rookie as she entered the parking lot.

"Hi," Ollie caught sight of the detective's narrowed eyes, "Bye."

"Nuh-uh," Nyla shook her head, striding over to the rookie. "You know we're gonna have to talk about it, right?"

Ollie sighed reluctantly. "I know. Rules are rules— I shouldn't be listening. Tim has already lectured me for listening in," she rambled on, "But I must say, what I heard at your seminar was amazing."

"I was a little rusty, but thank you," Nyla nodded appreciatively, noticing the look behind the rookie's eyes. "Are you interested in undercover work, Marshall?"

"Well, I'm not uninterested," Ollie offered back, "I haven't really done too much thinking about what I wanna do eventually, so I'm keeping my options open— and UC is definitely one of them," she declared, "And... I would be thoroughly grateful if I could get some insights about the job before I dip my toes in it...?"

Nyla chuckled lightly at the rookie. "I actually... I have time for drinks right now if you want."

"Yes, definitely," Ollie beamed, "I'm all yours."

"Alright, let's—" Nyla was interrupted by her cell phone ringing; she picked up the call at once. "Hey. You know you owe me big time, right?"

"Yeah, but can we keep my tab open? I could use another assist."

"Uh, I was about to go out for drinks with a colleague of mine, Ollie Marshall," Nyla replied, turning her phone over to the rookie; Ollie waved back through the video call.

"I'm in a bind. Look, the real reason I couldn't make the convention today is because I spotted a tail on my way down from Sacramento."

Nyla frowned. "Who?"

"I think it's the buyer in this op I've been running. They're sniffing around a big batch of liquid Fentanyl I'm selling."

"And you think they're onto you?"

"I think there's a lot of money in play, and they're paranoid as hell."

Nyla shared a worried look with the rookie. "Are they still surveilling you?"

"Yeah, I couldn't lose them. I think they put a tracker on my car. Look, I'm at The Smoke House in Burbank, but my whole team's up in San Jose."

"What are you driving?"

"Black Mustang GT. They know me as Coco."

"Alright, I'm on my way."

The call beeped to an end, and Nyla lifted her head to the rookie apologetically. "Sorry. I'm gonna have to call Grey now, and we're gonna have to take a rain check on our drinks."

"Oh, totally. It's fine," Ollie nodded understandingly.

But Nyla's intent stare met the rookie's gaze. "Unless you wanna come with?"

➤➤➤

"There's June's car," Nyla pointed out just as they got out of her car. They headed towards the Mustang, where Nyla reached under the rim to feel for a device. She eventually found one stuck by the side of the back bumper. "Tracker."

Ollie, who had been surveying their surroundings, turned back to the detective. "What's the plan?"

"You go in, find June," Nyla instructed, "Remember, her undercover name is Coco. She's a friend in town. Buy her a drink, chat her up. I will hang back and try and spot who her tails are."

"Understood," the rookie nodded deliberately.

"You up for this?"

"Hell yeah."

Leaving Nyla by the parking lot, Ollie headed into the bar, scanning the place for the face she had only taken a glimpse of through a video call. The woman sitting solely by the side caught her look. "Coco?"

June stood up at once with a broad grin. "Hey."

"Hey," Ollie smiled back, having no choice but to embrace a hug to whisper to June, "Harper found a tracker outside. We think they're here."

"Yeah, I know. One's at your four o'clock. Haven't spotted his backup yet," June whispered back hastily.

Ollie caught a look of a man by the bar counter as she slipped into her seat opposite the other woman. "How do we lure them out?"

June shrugged, her voice still lowered. "I'm still figuring."

A waitress motioned towards them with a kind smile. "Hey, honey. Can I get you something?"

"Yes, please," Ollie gestured at June's drink, "I will have what she's having. Do you want another one?"

"Sure."

"Make it three," the man from the bar counter joined in, pulling himself a chair to join the women at their booth. "Coco!" he glanced at June, "What a coincidence, seeing you all the way down here."

"Like hell," June deadpanned instead, "You followed me."

"We got a lot of money on the line with this deal, so we need to be very careful," the man merely stated. "A lot of people in this business, you know... they don't have integrity."

"Yeah, 'cause you're just filled with integrity, aren't you, Sato?"

The man's expression dropped, sending June a warning look. "Oh, you say my name in front of someone that I don't know? What is wrong with you?"

A moderately wild plan flashed in the rookie's mind.

"No, what is wrong with you?" Ollie, who had her head prompted up by an arm against the tabletop, interjected with a snarl. "Your mama never taught you not to butt in in people's conversation?"

"Who is this bitch?" Sato snapped, but Ollie had already moved first and splashed a fresh glass of water on his face. She noticed an abrupt jolt of movement of another man by the counter at the provocation— the backup! Sato glared at her with a cunning smile. "Oh, you just killed yourself. I'm looking at an empty chair right there."

Ollie remained unmoved, her tone even. "Then who's gonna make sure you don't have buyers with brain bleed?" she questioned, "Fuck up the hydrogenation process or molecular synthesis, and you're front-page news."

Sato's eyes glimmered. "You're the chemist," he gasped, snapping back to June, "She's the chemist."

"Yeah, she is. Now back off," June barked back at him. "And tell your boss the price just went up five percent for the lack of trust."

"Oh, I don't think so. Let's take a walk, talk about this somewhere a little more private," Sato stood up leisurely, lifting the hem of his shirt to reveal a gun at his waistband. "Hm?"

Reluctantly, the two women got up to follow, with the backup from the counter trailing after them. They walked out of the bar rather calmly; Ollie noted the two handguns between the two men.

"Well, we're out, now," she spoke, "Wanna talk yet?"

"Oh, no," Sato chuckled in response. "We're gonna go for a little ride. Think about why, uh, I got such a bad feeling about you."

"Paranoia much?"

Just in time, Nyla emerged from the back of one of the cars in the parking lot, stomping a hard kick at the back of the backup's knee. The man sank down at once with a loud grunt. The three women were quick to act; June turned to snatch Sato's gun from his grasp while Nyla jabbed hers at the man's neck; Ollie wedged a few by the backup guy's wrist before grabbing his gun.

"These guys are cops," Nyla announced loudly, "They put a tracker on your car."

"Got a bad feeling about me, huh?" June scoffed at Sato, who denied her accusation urgently with his arms up in surrender.

"Hey, we're not cops!"

Nyla cocked her head at them. "You want me to do 'em here or take 'em to the farm?"

"Hey, you gotta believe me," Sato voiced out in panic, turning back to the woman he knew. "Coco, you know me."

"Then what's with the tracker?" June shot back.

"Salonga wanted you surveilled, in case you guys tried to rip us off. I swear," Sato explained hastily, "Look, we want this deal to happen— we need this deal to happen, okay? We just wanted to make sure."

"Well, now you are. But the price just went up ten percent," June glared at him displeasingly, "Consider it a tax for pissing me off."

"Salonga ain't gonna go for that," Sato exclaimed.

"Hmm, then this is goodbye," June threw her arms up with a scoff. "I got plenty of other buyers."

"Yeah, okay, okay! I'll make it happen," Sato gave in at last, eyeing Ollie, who still had her gun trained at his backup. "But she comes, too. At that price, I want her to test the product in front of us to make sure that it's pure."

"Forget it," Nyla intervened, "No. She doesn't go out on buys."

Ollie straightened her back instantly, her mind pumped and her look serious. "It's fine. I'll go," she voiced out; Nyla shot her an alarming look, but Ollie continued, "I already have a list of what to splurge on with my share of the money."

"I'll call you on this phone with the new location. And you better pick up on the first ring," June interjected, handing the man a burner phone, "Now piss off."

Nyla jabbed her gun against the man, and Sato along with his backup guy hurried off quickly, though annoyedly. As the car drove away from the parking lot, Ollie took a light step towards the two other women, feeling enthralled, and alive.

"Did that really just happen?" Ollie gasped, "Like, 'You want me to do them here or take 'em to the farm?'— that was so badass!"

Nyla snorted lightly at the rookie's star-stricken look. "Oh, I hope you've got some Chemistry degree up your sleeve."

Ollie's expression gradually faltered. "Uh— never went to college."

"Wait, how much do you know about opioid chemistry?" June asked her firmly.

"As much as a high school student does while trying to figure out how to reproduce Narcan at home — yes, I know, it's a stretch — but I'd say a fair amount. Plus, uh, what they taught us at the Academy."

Nyla exchanged a look with the other cop, sighing at the rookie. "Then you're gonna have some homework to do."

"Crap." Ollie nodded slowly, pulling out her phone. "Then, I'd need to get some help..."

➤➤➤

It was past midnight, and Ollie was still switching between the multiple tabs on the browser, trying to memorise what she needed to know with much pressure. The notebook by her side was already filled with notes, scrawls, diagrams, and doodles.

Jackson shut one of Tamara's textbooks that they borrowed with a sigh. "How on earth did you rope yourself into some undercover op?"

"By being dumb and impulsive," Ollie groaned, rubbing her eyes, "Seriously, what compelled me to put myself in this position..."

Lucy traded a look with Jackson. "Adrenaline?" she suggested. "I mean, it's been a while since you've chased some intense, thrilling calls. I bet you were itching to put yourself out there."

Ollie's gaze flickered up briefly from the laptop screen. Sensing the truth in Lucy's statement, she huffed in response. "I was interested to get an upper hand on a future pathway."

"Well, I'm sure this gives you much of an upper hand," Jackson mused, finding his friend's agitated look amusing. "Didn't you fail high school chemistry once or twice?"

Ollie shot him a glare. "Once. And that was because I missed the exam while being in the hospital with my O.D.'d mom." She sighed loudly when she failed to balance an equation after a third attempt; her friends were wearing some rather judgemental looks, eyeing her paper. Ollie glanced back at them with a grunt. "Okay, I get it, you two are straight-A chemistry students— now, please help me here."

➤➤➤

Grey had informed Tim about his rookie joining Nyla in an undercover operation the following morning. So, when he saw Ollie in plain clothes, confirming the special assignment, he looked irritated, to say the least.

"This is Sergeant June Zhang of Fresno P.D.," Nyla introduced. "We are gonna help out on her op today."

June stepped forward with a smile as she addressed the officers in the briefing room. "Appreciate the assistance, guys. I'm June, the U.C. My case officer, Lieutenant Balasco, who is not nearly as mean and awful as he looks," she pointed to the side before resuming, "For the last eight months, I have been up on a crew out of San Jose who made bank selling precursors of liquid Fentanyl. But they got greedy, tried to go from selling the parts to making and selling the finished product.

"But their lab blew up, killing their chemist and destroying their entire supply, leaving them with no product and a lot of pissed-off buyers," she briefed, "Which is when I swooped in, promising enough product to satisfy all their customers and then some. But last night, all our hard work almost fell apart— until the quick thinking of Officer Marshall saved my ass."

"Marshall, stand up so they can see what you're wearing," Nyla gestured, and the rookie stood up and turned to the officers behind her.

The figure leaning against the doorway was burning a stare at the side of her head— and he did not look pleased.

"The op today is simple," June continued, "Trade drugs for cash, then arrest everybody and try to get them to flip on Aldo Salonga, their boss."

"Alright. You have your assignment. Everyone in position by ten a.m.," Nyla concluded.

Tim trudged into the room, still looking aggravated. "What the hell are you doing? You can't pit an untrained probationary officer against one of the most dangerous crime syndicates in California," he protested aloud.

"I don't want to hear it, Tim," Nyla remained adamant, "She volunteered. Plus, Grey authorised it, and we have some of the best operational expertise she could ask for."

Tim scoffed, turning back to his rookie sharply. "They know the gladiator cage you're walking into. You don't. That's not volunteering— that's being used."

Ollie stared quietly as her T.O. turned to stalk out of the briefing room. Ouch...?

Nyla, noticing the shift in the rookie's mood, placed a comforting arm on her shoulder. "Hey, don't let Bradford kill your confidence, okay?"

Ollie sighed. "Just thought he'd be at least a little bit supportive..."

"He's your training officer. He's gotten you this far. There's nothing wrong with wanting his approval."

"I didn't."

"You had puppy eyes, Marshall— and don't argue with me on that," Nyla cut the rookie off before Ollie could even voice out her denial.

➤

Angela wandered to the armoury, where she found Tim with one of the many scowls he owned. "I heard Ollie's going on an undercover op."

"Mm." He barely replied with a grunt of confirmation; the detective strode over to him.

"Hey, your own hang-ups with U.C. work are yours to deal with. Don't let it stop her from trying it out," she said, "It's really a great opportunity for her. A good headstart, even."

"Yeah, I know that," Tim responded curtly, glancing over to the pregnant woman. "Just not sure that she was briefed on the risks of going undercover."

Angela nodded understandingly. "She can handle herself, regardless."

"I know. I trained her."

"Yeah, so stop worrying," Angela told him, "No matter the true reason for it..."

Of course, he knew of her capabilities; he was also relatively certain that she would be able to pull it off— still wasn't going to stop him from worrying, though.

Tim merely rolled his eyes and carried the war bags away.

➤➤➤

"Alright, uh, let's go over this one more time," Nyla suggested as the three women cramped at the back of a van. "Salonga's crew arrives, you test the Fentanyl, give them a show, we get the money, they get this van, and then — boom — strike team takes them down."

"Walk in the park," June assured.

"And if not—" Nyla cocked the shotgun in her hand before glancing back at the rookie, "—we make some noise until the cavalry arrives. You want to go over the signals again?"

"'Workhorse' means we're in trouble. And 'Beautiful day' means we're all good," Ollie recited with a stiff nod that did not go unnoticed by the detective.

"Ollie," Nyla called, "Are you all good?"

"I am. Yes," Ollie nodded again, fidgeting with the handbag on her shoulder.

"You know, if you're not nervous, you're not human. Okay?" Nyla offered. "So, use this to your advantage. Be scared. Be wild. Be unpredictable. Be a cobra." She mimicked a hiss, causing the rookie to chuckle.

In their final moment of quietness, Ollie went through the equations, the structures, the diagrams, and many more theories she had managed to fit in her mind with the help of Jackson and Lucy. She was still recalling the chemical bonding in her hand and mumbling some terms under her breath when they heard a vehicle arriving to their location.

Show time.

Ollie drew in a deep breath before stepping out through the side of the van, alongside June and Nyla.

"Let's do this!" Sato declared loudly.

"Where's the money?" Nyla questioned, holding the shotgun with great visibility.

"First things first," Sato scoffed, "I wanna test the shipment."

Ollie motioned towards the back of the van, bringing out a few vials from her bag. She took out the sample of liquid fentanyl lastly, then used a dropper to mix the chemicals. All four vials turned to a vibrant colour.

"Hard positives on every scale," she announced. "Bet you've never seen anything this pure."

"Now let's see the cash," June prodded again.

Sato, with a smirk, pulled out a walkie-talkie from his back. "We're in business."

The three women grew confused — but alert — when another vehicle joined their rooftop location. Nyla immediately pointed her gun at Sato. "If this is a set-up, you're the first to go."

"Relax. It's just my boss," Sato held his hands up, "And he wants to talk... to you."

Ollie stared at the finger pointed at her with furrowed brows. "Me?"

The car rolled in closer to them and came to a stop. One of the back windows whirred opened, revealing a moustached man. "Good morning. My apologies for last night. Sato overstepped. It won't happen again," Salonga spoke, eyeing Ollie, "Come in and talk to me."

Ollie shifted on her feet. "And why should I get in a stranger's car?"

Salonga chuckled drily. "A monkey can be taught to test for drugs... or a cop," he apprised, "I need to see that you really know the science."

Ollie was put in a position with perhaps an infinite possibility of what would happen next. She could get in and get shot immediately; she could get in, get out, then get shot in the back after they snatched the fentanyl; she could also refuse to get in and blow the whole operation.

The only thing she was certain of, was that they had not seen the money. And they needed the visual confirmation before the task force could move in for arrests. She was not going to let everything go to waste after coming this far.

So, the uncertain probabilities were her best option.

Ignoring Nyla's light shake of the head, Ollie sighed at last. "Yeah, what the hell. It's a beautiful day, anyways," she proclaimed, walking over to the back seats of the car.

Ollie slotted into the seat and was met with a gun pointed at her.

"Don't concern yourself with him," Salonga stated.

"Sure," Ollie deadpanned, hearing the locks of the car door clicking; the endless possibilities were flashing through her mind, once more. "Okay, just tell me what we're doing here."

"Simple." Salonga clicked his tongue, reaching for a whiteboard by the side of the car. "I know a little chemistry. The hydromorphone hydrochloride you're selling— remind me of the formula."

With a sigh, Ollie took over the whiteboard and marker and began illustrating. Fortunately, drawing was her forte. Salonga muttered something to his assistant, in a language — Tagalog, maybe? — that Ollie did not understand.

Hexagon... Hexagon... Another hexagon... A double bond here... Single bond here, and there... Hmm, am I missing out a hydrogen atom?

"Problem?" Salonga cocked a brow at her.

"Nah," Ollie responded, finalising her structure with the squeaking marker before turning the whiteboard back to the man. "I also included the trace by-product, sodium metabisulfite, down here— in case you still think I'm a carnival monkey."

Salonga grinned pleasingly with a nod. "I like you," he declared, "So, I have an offer. I kill Coco and the other one. You keep half the money. Come work for me."

"Hm, and what makes you think ­betrayal is my style?" Ollie turned him down. "Although, I am flattered. But I'm already running late to my nails appointment. So, can we finish the deal now?"

After a disappointed sigh, Salonga nodded at last, unlocking the door once again. Ollie stepped out of the car at once, eyeing the two other undercover cops, who looked briefly relieved to see her face again. Salonga nodded at Sato, who headed to the back of the car to pop open the trunk.

He retrieved two duffel bags and tossed them onto the floor; June opened one of the bags, revealing a load of cash with a smirk. "Now, that's sexy."

Right on cue, a line of cop cars screeched into the rooftop location, with sirens blaring in their ears. The officers pooled out of their shops at once, already shuffling over towards the scene.

"Weapons down! Weapons down on the ground right now!"

"Drop the gun! Hands above your head!"

Tim strode over to Ollie, who finally let out a hitched breath of relief. "You okay?" he asked lightly, and she nodded softly in response.

"Sato! You set us up, you snitch! You're dead! You hear me?!" June yelled out, still playing her part, "You're dead! You watch your back!"

Tim was still trying to put the cuffs on a still-acting-her-part-by-struggling-at-getting-cuffed Ollie; he could barely tell if she was really just toying with him, at that point.

"Coming through. Sorry," an officer called out, hauling Sato, and accidentally bumping into Tim from the back. It caused him to stumble towards his rookie, sending a jolt into his already-alerted head.

He cleared his throat at his rookie, who had finally stopped moving her arms and let him cuff her. He got her back up from the hood of the patrol car, seizing her hands to guide her towards the back of the shop.

And his grip was so gentle, it was sending her into some sort of frenzy.

Frenzy along the lines of a sense of assurance security after an op involving a vast of unpredictable outcomes. Ollie could feel the callouses on his hands against her wrist.

Could he feel the pulse beating under her skin?

He tapped her hand gently, leaning down to speak. "You did good," he muttered softly.

Yeah, his words did something to her.

And by her ear? Oh, that sent a bolt of goosebumps down the rookie's spine.

Ollie gulped, nodding back lightly, still feeling his breathing at the nape of her neck. "T-Thanks."

Tim opened the back door and let her in, his hand resting against the edge to shield her head. After she got in, he smiled back at her, with a gulp, and shut the door. When he straightened his back again, he had to let out a deep exhale, tightening his jaw.

This is suffering.

➤➤➤

Ollie was bullied into buying drinks for Lucy and Jackson, for helping her with opioid chemistry. She had extended the offer to John as well, but he gratefully declined, having to attend his college classes at night.

The burn of shots at the back of her throat was an assuring constant to her day of mass uncertainties.

The rookies clinked their glasses and downed yet another shot; Jackson was still making faces at the sting. "Alright," Lucy cleared her throat as she set down her shot glass, "seeing that we're nearing the end of our probation year, I suggest we make a list of things to address in order to cope with the end of our relationships with our T.O.s."

Ollie was not sure if she was being serious, or that the alcohol finally got into her head. She glanced at Jackson, who was mirroring her baffled look.

"Except, I don't have a permanent T.O.," Jackson voiced out, "And Tim isn't going to humour Ollie, at all."

Ollie nodded strongly. "Mm-hm."

"Ugh— fine." Lucy rolled her eyes, already scribbling out on a piece of serviette. "I'll draft my list for Avery on my own..."

Ollie managed to peek at the list Lucy was drafting out, which was categorised into five columns, representing the five stages of grief. "Um, I think I'm gonna warn Avery beforehand..."

Jackson, too, took a glimpse and scanned through the writings. "Yeah, you probably should," he grimaced, peering back at the other woman. "Hey, nine more days before you're free from Tim Tests. How does that feel?"

"Exciting," Ollie answered with a chuckle, "Ooh— do you think we'd get to ride together?"

"I sure hope so," Jackson exclaimed. "Man, it's going to be amazing! I mean, no more T.O.s breathing down our necks?"

Yeah, about that...

Ollie could still feel the lingering breath at the back of her neck.

She swallowed just at the recollection of it, blaming the shots for letting her mind wander again.

"Sounds exciting."

Lucy suddenly raised her head from the serviette. "Which one of you knows how to make a bomb?"

The two other rookies blinked at her, their eyes widening. "A what—?"

━━━━━

Aight so I realise I'm highkey taking away Lucy's character development here but I've got no clue how to continue so spare me (':

(This is imposter syndrome speaking shhhh)