At the station

In the briefing room

The briefing room was packed with officers, all eyes glued to the screen as a fake LAPD commercial played. The title card read, "The Los Angeles Police Department Wants You."

Jackson appeared on screen first, cheerfully greeting, "Good morning, Officer Nolan."

John walked into the frame, holding two coffees. Jackson asked, "Ready for another exciting day out on the streets of Los Angeles?"

With a nod, John handed him a coffee. "Yep. Coffee?"

Jackson shook his head with a grin. "No, thanks. I get all the rush I need from making this beautiful city of ours safer every single day."

Just then, Lucy walked into the frame. "And you will too if you join the LADP—uh, I mean, PD."

From off-screen, the director shouted, "Cut! Go again."

The screen flashed, and Lucy, looking a bit flustered, repeated, "And you will too..." She paused, confused. "Um, sorry. What do I say again?"

The director, clearly frustrated, called out, "Cut!"

John and Jackson, both holding back laughter, leaned towards Lucy and said in unison, "LAPD."

After another beep, the director shouted, "Action."

Lucy stammered, "I do too. And so will you if—if you join... the LA..."

"Cut!" the director yelled again.

John, trying to maintain composure, said, "I need to spit out my gum."

The director's voice was heard once more, exasperated, "Cut!"

The video cut to the three rookies finally saying in unison, "And that's why we joined the LAPD."

But Lucy still flustered, blurted out, "LADP."

Grey paused the video as the room erupted in laughter. Even Wesley, sitting next to Tim, couldn't help but chuckle.

"LA's finest," Grey remarked dryly.

John, trying to salvage some dignity, said, "O-Okay, guys, I know there were a few stumbles in there, yes, in the beginning, but this is Hollywood, right? They fix that stuff in editing. I think this video's gonna make the department very proud."

The laughter in the room only grew louder. Grey, with a smirk, asked, "Officer Bradford, would you like the honor?"

Tim shook his head, grinning. "Actually, sir, I think that should go to Wick—the whole thing was his idea."

Grey turned to Wesley, "Wick?"

Wesley looked over at the rookies, a playful smile on his face. "I'm sorry, but there is no promotional video."

Bishop chimed in, "You got punked."

The room exploded in laughter again as Grey, ever the showman, pulled out a bowl of popcorn and resumed the video.

Onscreen, Lucy groaned, "This sucks. I—this is awful."

John's voice followed, encouraging, "No, you're doing good."

Jackson, wiping his brow, added, "Can I get more powder? I'm sweating blocks."

The laughter in the room reached a fever pitch as the video continued, with John asking, "Can I get a copy of this for my kid and niece and nephew?"

Later

A tense silence filled the room as a woman stood before the officers, a bomb strapped to her chest, holding a detonator. She was conducting a training exercise, but the gravity of the scenario was palpable.

"We're all gonna die," she said, her voice eerily calm. "Right here. Right now. This bomb is packed with C4, ball bearings, screws, and broken glass. When it goes off, this entire room is going to turn into a blender. And guess what? If you don't die instantly, you'll suffer fatal, secondary infections because I soaked the shrapnel in my own filth."

Lucy glanced at Wesley, her eyes wide with concern. Wesley gave her a subtle nod, signaling for her to stay calm.

The woman continued, "You've all been trained to shoot on sight when you see a bomber, right? But you can't shoot me—I'm holding a dead man's switch. I let it go, and it detonates. So your only shot at survival is to talk me into giving up. But you only have ten words to do it."

She turned to Jackson first. "Go."

Jackson hesitated, his voice shaky. "U-um, ma'am, you-- you don't want to do this."

Without missing a beat, the woman pressed the trigger, mimicking an explosion. "Boom. It's a slaughterhouse in here."

Next, she looked at Lucy. "Go."

Lucy took a deep breath. "Uh, my name is Lucy Chen, and—"

The woman walked right up to Lucy, pressing the button again. "Boom. They're IDing you through dental records."

Tim, unable to stay still, rushed forward, but the woman was quick. She pressed the button again and said, "Boom. You just got buried in a shoebox."

Finally, she turned to Wesley, her gaze sharp. "And what are you gonna say, handsome?"

Wesley met her eyes, calm and composed.

Wesley took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving the woman's. The room seemed to hold its collective breath as everyone waited for his response. He knew he only had ten words to defuse this situation.

Softly but firmly, Wesley said, "You're not alone. We can help you. Don't do this."

The woman paused, her grip on the detonator tightening for a moment as she processed his words. The tension in the room was palpable, but Wesley stayed calm, his gaze steady.

After what felt like an eternity, the woman slowly lowered her hand, releasing the pressure on the detonator. "Alright," she said, her voice softer now. "I'll give up."

There was a collective exhale in the room as the officers realized the crisis had been averted. The woman nodded at Wesley, acknowledging his effort, before stepping back to end the exercise.

Wesley relaxed slightly, relieved that his words had reached her, even in this controlled scenario.

The woman nodded a hint of approval in her expression. "That's a good one. He offered help even with a bomb on my chest. Let's run it again."

The room collectively agreed, their tension easing as they prepared for the next round.

John stepped forward, trying to channel the same calm determination. "I can only imagine the pain you're feeling right now."

The woman's eyes narrowed slightly, impressed but unfazed. "You just earned yourself ten more words. Keep going."

Later

The woman addressed the room, pacing slightly as she spoke. "All right, let's break down what went wrong. Officer West, you started mansplaining. Officer Chen, you wasted time by introducing yourself. And Officer Bradford—well, you skipped words entirely."

Tim smirked. "Words are overrated. If I'd been a hair quicker, you'd be handing out compliments."

The woman shot him a glance. "But you weren't quick enough, which means you're in the fail category along with everyone else—except for Officer Wick and Officer Nolan. So, what did they do right?"

Bishop chimed in, "They showed empathy."

Tim scoffed. "You mean they faked it."

The woman responded firmly, "It doesn't matter if it was real or not. What matters is how it comes across."

John added, "Active listening plus empathy leads to rapport, which leads to influence, and ultimately, behavioral change."

The woman raised an eyebrow, impressed. "Wow, you actually read my book."

John grinned. "Twice."

Wesley interjected with a teasing tone, "Wait a second... are you flirting with her?"

The room erupted in good-natured laughter and playful whistles as John protested, "Hey, knock it off! I'm not flirting."

The woman chuckled, shaking her head. "Okay, well, I did my homework too, Nolan. I read your file—and everyone else's in this room. But nothing in your past, or Officer Wick's, suggests you'd excel at communication like that. So, what makes you two so good at it?"

John replied smoothly, "Because of the training I received from Officer Bishop and Sergeant Grey."

Wesley quipped, "Boom."

The room burst into laughter again, and the woman eyed Wesley with a wry smile. "You knew I was going to say that, didn't you? And then you go and give me a textbook political answer."

Wesley shrugged with a grin. "You're easy to read. For instance, I can tell you're right-handed, and you have a right-foot-forward stance. And from the way you carry yourself, I'd say you're a pretty kind person."

The woman nodded, intrigued. "You're right—I do position myself that way, and I am right-handed."

Wesley pointed out, "Well, you did hold the fake detonator in your right hand."

She smiled, slightly impressed. "That I did."

Wesley leaned back slightly, his gaze narrowing as he studied the woman with a playful intensity, channeling his inner Sherlock Holmes. The room grew quieter as the officers leaned in, curious to see where he was going with this.

"You position yourself in a right stance," Wesley began, his tone confident. "You're right-handed, as we've established, but there's more to it. The way you're dressed—practical but with a touch of style—suggests you value efficiency but aren't above making an impression when necessary. The slight wear on the soles of your shoes indicates you're on your feet a lot, probably pacing while you think. You're a hands-on person, aren't you? Someone who doesn't just give orders but likes to be involved in the action."

The woman arched an eyebrow, her interest piqued. "Go on."

Wesley continued, a small smile playing on his lips. "Your nails—short and neatly kept—show that you don't have time for frivolities like manicures, but you still take care of the details. That watch you're wearing, a high-end model, isn't just for show. You're punctual and disciplined, and you value your time—and others as well. You likely have a background in something that requires precision, maybe the military or law enforcement, but you've since moved into training because you have a knack for reading people and understanding what makes them tick."

The woman's expression softened slightly, a hint of admiration in her eyes. "Impressive. But how could you possibly know that?"

Wesley's smile broadened. "The way you interacted with us during the exercise wasn't just about testing our skills; it was about gauging our reactions. You're not just teaching; you're constantly assessing, and adjusting your approach based on what you observe. That kind of adaptability comes from experience, and not just from books or simulations. You've been in the field, haven't you? You've faced high-pressure situations where reading people quickly and accurately was the difference between life and death."

The woman paused, clearly impressed, before she responded. "You're right. I did serve in the military before transitioning to this role. But how could you know that without reading my file?"

Wesley leaned forward slightly, his voice softening as he spoke. "Because I've been there too—well, not the military, but in situations where everything hangs in the balance, and you have to read between the lines to make the right call. It's not about being a mind reader; it's about understanding that every detail, every action, tells a story."

The room was silent, the other officers watching with rapt attention as the woman nodded slowly, clearly impressed. "You've got a keen eye, Officer Wick. I see why you're good at what you do."

Wesley shrugged modestly, but there was a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. "It's all about paying attention, ma'am. Just like you taught us."

The woman smiled a genuine one this time and nodded in approval. "Well, Officer Wick, you've certainly passed this test with flying colors. Let's see how the rest of you measure up."

The woman, clearly intrigued by Wesley's observational skills, tilted her head slightly and smirked. "Impressive, Officer Wick. But let's see if you can do that with someone else in this room. How about... her?" She pointed to Lucy, who was sitting a few seats away, watching with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

Wesley looked at Lucy, his expression softening as he took in the details of her appearance and demeanor. He took a deep breath, knowing this would be different—more personal.

"Lucy Chen," Wesley began, his tone measured but affectionate. "You're organized, almost to a fault. Your uniform is always spotless, everything in its place, because you believe that discipline and attention to detail are crucial—not just in the job, but in life. Your nails are short, like the instructor's, but not just for practicality; they're also a reflection of how you keep a tight grip on your emotions. You don't let things get too close, not unless you trust someone implicitly."

Lucy raised an eyebrow, intrigued but slightly wary of where he was going with this.

Wesley continued, his voice steady. "You carry a small notebook in your left pocket. It's not just for jotting down details of cases; it's your way of processing the world, of making sense of things when they get overwhelming. You're meticulous in your work, always taking notes, always learning. But that's not all—it's also a shield, something you can focus on when you need to create a little distance from what's happening around you."

He paused, letting the words sink in before going on. "Your shoes have a bit more wear on the heels than the toes, which tells me you're always ready to move, always on your feet. You don't stay in one place for long, not physically and not emotionally. You're constantly looking for the next challenge, the next opportunity to prove yourself. But there's something else—something you don't show to everyone. You have a soft spot for people, especially those who are hurting or vulnerable. You try to hide it behind a tough exterior, but I see it in the way you talk to victims and the way you approach sensitive situations. You care deeply, more than you'd ever admit because you know what it's like to feel uncertain."

Lucy's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of emotion crossing her face as Wesley's words hit close to home. She remained silent, but there was a softness in her gaze as she listened.

"And then there's your drive," Wesley continued, his voice now tinged with admiration. "You push yourself harder than anyone else because you don't want to be just good—you want to be the best. But it's not just about ambition; it's about proving something to yourself. You want to show that you're strong and capable and that you belong here, in this room, in this profession. And you do, Lucy. More than you know."

The room was quiet, everyone watching intently as Wesley spoke. The woman who had initiated the challenge looked at Lucy, then back at Wesley, clearly impressed.

"You're right on the mark, Officer Wick," the woman said, nodding in approval. "It's clear you know your partner well."

Wesley smiled softly, his eyes locked on Lucy. "It's not just about knowing someone's habits or quirks. It's about understanding who they are, what drives them, and what they care about. And that's something you can't fake."

Lucy, clearly moved, gave Wesley a small, appreciative smile. "You know me too well, Wick."

Wesley chuckled, the tension easing from the room. "I try, Boot."

The woman clapped her hands, drawing everyone's attention back. "Well, Officer Wick, you've demonstrated exceptional observation skills, not just in reading people, but in understanding them. That's a valuable asset in this line of work. Now, let's see if the rest of you can learn a thing or two from him."

The officers in the room chuckled, the atmosphere lightening as the exercise continued. But there was an unspoken understanding between Wesley and Lucy—a deepening of the bond that had been there all along, strengthened by the trust and respect they had for each other.

Later

At the gear station, the rookies were busy prepping for the next shift when Lucy glanced toward Grey's office, catching sight of the woman they had just trained with deep in conversation with him.

"She's pretty impressive, huh?" Lucy remarked, her tone filled with a mix of admiration and curiosity.

John nodded, "I'll say."

Jackson chimed in, "Why didn't you tell me she wrote a book about her years on the FBI's hostage rescue team? I would've been so much better prepared."

Wesley, hearing the conversation, gave a small smile. "First off, Boot, I'm here to help you learn, not hand you all the answers. You've got to earn your place, just like everyone else."

John teased, "And how did you not know about it, Jackson? Academy star like you should've been all over that."

Lucy added with a smirk, "Yeah, Officer Jackson, you're slipping."

Jackson defended himself, "Okay, no, I'm not."

Lucy chuckled, while John, ever the competitor, leaned in with a grin. "Wouldn't have mattered if you read it or not. I'm simply better than you."

Jackson laughed and shot back, "Oh, okay. Well, I think she's full of it anyway. I spent summer vacations running hostage scenarios. I always beat my brother and saved the hostage. Dad said it was a gift."

Lucy quipped, "Dad should've sent you to camp."

Wesley, overhearing, shook his head. "Your dad was wrong, Boot."

Suddenly, the sound of rushing footsteps caught their attention. Wesley noticed the other officers heading towards the briefing room and asked, "What's going on?"

Bishop, passing by, quickly filled them in. "Prison transport crashed—loaded with convicts from the courthouse."

Tim hurried over to Wesley, looking serious. "Hey, can you take Lucy? Grey wants me to ride with him."

Wesley exchanged a glance with Lucy, a familiar smirk forming on his face. "Looks like we're back together, Boot. I missed you."

Lucy smiled back, her eyes lighting up. "I missed you too, sir. I'll grab our gear."

"Thanks, Boot," Wesley replied, already heading toward their patrol car.

As Lucy gathered their equipment, Jackson couldn't help but comment, "How come you're always with Wes? When's it our turn to have him as our T.O.?"

Lucy shot him a playful look. "I'm simply his favorite, okay?"

Jackson rolled his eyes but laughed, "Oh, I see how it is. Nolan and Lucy think they're better than everybody."

Lucy laughed, shaking her head as she grabbed the last of their gear. "I'm joking," she said, before hurrying off to join Wesley, the camaraderie between them evident as they prepared to tackle whatever the day would bring.

Later

Wesley and Lucy sped through the streets in their patrol car, the wail of sirens from the convoy of police vehicles surrounding them echoing through the city. Wesley's hands gripped the wheel, his eyes focused on the road ahead as he expertly maneuvered to keep pace with the other patrol cars.

"All right, Boot," Wesley said, his tone firm but instructive, "What's our first move when we arrive at the prison transport crash site?" He glanced over at Lucy as he deftly turned the wheel, seamlessly weaving through traffic to stay in formation with the other units.

Lucy kept her eyes forward, mentally running through their training as the adrenaline began to pump through her veins. She knew this wasn't a drill; this was the real deal.

"Secure the perimeter," she replied confidently, "and assess the situation. Priority is to contain the convicts and prevent any escape. Then we assist any injured officers and civilians."

Wesley gave a slight nod, pleased with her quick response. "Good. But remember, the scene could be chaotic. Stay sharp, and watch for anything out of the ordinary. We don't know how desperate these guys might be."

As they neared the crash site, the flashing lights of the police cars ahead illuminated the chaos that awaited them. The prison transport vehicle was overturned, its side crumpled from the impact, and several convicts were already on the run, scattering in different directions.

Wesley slowed the car as they approached, quickly scanning the scene. "Look for escape routes they might use, Boot. We need to cut them off before they can disappear into the city."

Lucy unbuckled her seatbelt and grabbed the radio. "7-Adam-19 on the scene," she reported. "We're moving to contain the area and apprehend any fleeing suspects."

Wesley parked the car, and they both jumped out, their training taking over. Wesley motioned for Lucy to follow him as they moved towards the crash site, weapons drawn and senses on high alert.

"Stick close, Boot," Wesley said, his voice calm but commanding. "We've got this."

Lucy nodded, her heart racing but her focus clear. She was ready for whatever came next.

Wesley spotted a man stumbling up the hill and quickly made his way over. "Hey, what happened here?" he asked urgently.

The officer, looking dazed, responded, "A coyote ran in front of the bus. Graham swerved, and we went over."

Wesley's expression tightened. "How many people were on board?"

"20 prisoners, two other guards," the officer replied, his voice shaky.

"Did any prisoners escape?" Wesley pressed.

The officer nodded weakly. "I think so."

Suddenly, the officer's knees buckled, and Wesley instinctively caught him. "Whoa, whoa, easy," Wesley said, steadying the man.

As more patrol cars pulled up, Grey rushed over, his eyes scanning the scene before focusing on Wesley. "Wick, get down there and give me a head count," Grey ordered, his tone brisk.

Wesley nodded and quickly pulled out his radio. "7-Adam-19, I've spoken with the officer at our location. He confirmed 20 prisoners on board. Officers Lopez, Jackson, Nolan, and I are heading to the crash site now. Stand by for an update on how many prisoners are still on the bus. Over."

Without missing a beat, Wesley motioned for Lucy and the others to follow as they descended toward the wreckage, the gravity of the situation clear in every step they took.

As Wesley led the team down the hill toward the crash site, his radio crackled to life.

"7-Adam-19, this is Dispatch," a steady voice came through. "Copy that. Be advised, that additional units are en route to your location. Maintain situational awareness—potential escapees may still be in the area. Over."

Wesley responded, "10-4, Dispatch. We'll secure the scene and provide updates as we get them. 7-Adam-19, out."

Grey's voice crackled over the radio with authority and urgency. "This is 7-L-20. I'm declaring a city-wide tactical alert. Dispatch, I need multiple RAs on the scene immediately. Scramble all available airships and call in additional units from Rampart and North Hollywood. Set a hard perimeter around the crash site—assume the prisoners have a ten-minute head start. All units, be advised: proceed with extreme caution. Over."

Wesley, Lucy, and the team continued their sweep of the overturned bus. The tension was palpable as they checked each compartment, scanning for signs of life. They came across one of the prisoners, lying motionless, his body twisted at an unnatural angle.

Wesley knelt, carefully checking for a pulse. He looked up at Lucy, shaking his head. "He's gone," he confirmed, his tone grim. The reality of the situation was sinking in—some of the prisoners had likely escaped, and the ones who hadn't might be far behind.

"Let's keep moving," Wesley urged his voice steady but with an edge of urgency. "We need to account for every last one of them."

He glanced at Lucy, who was scanning the area intently, then at the rest of the team. "Let's move carefully. Eyes open, stay sharp. We don't know how many are still out here."

They approached the bus, now overturned and partially buried in the underbrush. The metal was twisted, and the back doors were hanging open, creaking ominously in the wind. Wesley could see movement inside.

"Lopez, Jackson, take the left. Nolan, you're with me on the right. Chen, watch our backs."

The team moved into position as Wesley cautiously advanced, his hand resting on his holstered weapon. He knew the situation was volatile, and every decision mattered.

"Let's get a head count," Wesley said, his voice low but firm. "And be ready for anything."

Wesley was about to start a head count when he heard a rustling sound coming from the woods.

"I've got something over here, 10:00," Wesley announced on his radio.

Lopez's voice came through, "Check it out, but be careful."

Wesley glanced at Lucy and instructed, "Boot, stay here with them. Watch their six."

"Copy that, sir," Lucy replied, positioning herself to keep an eye on Jackson, Lopez, and John.

Wesley moved cautiously toward the sound in the dense underbrush. Just as he was about to push through the bushes, Lopez's voice crackled over the radio, "All units, be advised: seven prisoners have escaped from the bus. At least one is armed."

"Damn it," Wesley muttered, quickening his pace as he continued forward. His heart raced as he followed a trail of blood on the ground.

Wesley's grip tightened on his gun as he approached the source of the sound. He shouted, "Police! Stop!"

He rounded a bend and saw it was a guard. Wesley immediately holstered his weapon and rushed over.

"Hey, take it easy. Easy now," Wesley said, bending down beside the injured man, who was coughing and gasping for breath.

"I've got you. Just hang on," Wesley said soothingly as he carefully flipped the guard over. The man's leg was missing, and Wesley's expression tightened with concern.

Wesley pulled out his radio. "7-Adam-19, I need an RA unit immediately—60 yards east of the crash. 50-year-old male, life-threatening injuries."

He put the radio back and turned his attention back to the guard. "Okay, just stop moving, all right? Help is on the way. I'm right here. What's your name?"

The man, struggling to breathe, responded weakly, "Graham."

"Graham, I'm Wesley," he said, his voice calm and reassuring. "Are you gonna be okay? You just need to hang on a bit longer."

Graham's breaths grew more erratic. "Tell her—I need you to tell her..."

"Tell who? I need to know who," Wesley pressed urgently. "Who should I tell, Graham?"

With great effort, Graham managed to whisper, "Beth."

Wesley nodded, his heart heavy. "Okay, I'll tell her."

Moments later, Wesley checked for a pulse and felt a cold, lifelessness. His face fell as he realized Graham had passed. He sat back on the grass, taking a deep breath, overwhelmed by the gravity of the situation.

Suddenly, a chain was thrown over Wesley's head, tightening around his neck. He choked and coughed, struggling as the chain pulled him backward, dragging him away from the crash site.

After being dragged for a minute, Wesley heard Lucy's voice crackle over the radio, "Officer Wick, report."

Struggling against the chain, Wesley managed to strike the prisoner dragging him, flipping him onto his back. He punched the man's face and quickly drew his gun, aiming it at him as he shouted, "Don't move!"

The voice of Lucy shouted urgently, "Wick!"

Wesley, gasping and coughing, called back, "I'm okay!"

Lopez and Jackson, having arrived with Lucy, rushed to the scene. Lopez ordered, "Get control of him."

Lucy reached Wesley's side, her concern evident as she asked, "Are you okay?"

Wesley nodded, still catching his breath, "Yeah. You okay, Boot?"

Lucy nodded back, "I was worried about you."

Wesley forced a smile, breathing heavily, "Don't worry about me. I'm okay."

He watched as Jackson handcuffed the prisoner who had attacked him and then glanced back at Graham's lifeless body.

Later

As the group walked back to their patrol cars, they heard Grey announce, "We have seven fugitives at large—"

Wilder and his partner approached and corrected, "Six."

Grey acknowledged, "Good work. Correction—six fugitives at large."

Wesley and Lucy arrived, escorting the prisoner who had attacked Wesley. Wesley added, "Five."

Grey continued, "At this rate, I'd say we might be home for dinner, but I know better. A fugitive on foot can maintain a pace of four miles per hour. The clock has been ticking for 20 minutes. We've set up a hard perimeter a mile out. If it was established in time, it's a matter of going door-to-door and tracking these fugitives down. If one manages to get past our perimeter, this turns from a recovery operation into a full-blown manhunt."

Grey's tone grew more serious. "And that puts the entire city at risk. Bishop, Wong, Mitchell, and Pileggi—your teams will fall back and secure the perimeter. Wick, Lopez, Keegan, and Willis, you'll join the grid search within the zone. Command will provide you with the identities of the fugitives as soon as we have them, but for now, assume they are all extremely dangerous. Let's get to work."

Wesley handed off the prisoner to be transported and said, "Come on, Boot. Let's head to our sector."

Lucy responded, "Yes, sir."

The two headed to their patrol car and set off to join the grid search.

Later

As Wesley and Lucy drove towards their sector, the tension in the patrol car was palpable. Lucy glanced over at Wesley, her worry evident.

"Hey," she said softly, reaching over to check his neck. "Let me see."

Wesley glanced at her, a faint smile on his face despite the pain. "I'm fine, Boot. Just a scratch."

Lucy carefully examined the marks on his neck, her brow furrowed with concern. "You don't look fine. You were choked pretty badly."

Wesley shrugged, wincing slightly. "I've had worse. I'm more worried about getting these fugitives."

Lucy shook her head. "Don't brush this off. You could have internal injuries. We're going to make sure you get checked out as soon as this is over."

Wesley sighed, appreciating her concern but not wanting to dwell on it. "Alright, alright. We'll get it checked after the search. Let's focus on the task at hand."

Lucy nodded, but her gaze remained fixed on him, a mixture of determination and worry in her eyes. "Just... be careful, okay? We need you in one piece."

Wesley nodded, his expression softening. "I will. And I appreciate the concern, Boot. Let's go get these fugitives and then I'll let you play doctor."

Lucy smiled, albeit with a hint of worry. "Deal."

As they continued driving, the patrol car's siren wailed in the distance, blending into the backdrop of the city. Both were focused on the mission ahead, but the unspoken promise of looking out for each other lingered in the air.

Later

As they patrolled their assigned neighborhood, Wesley and Lucy had their siren blaring as they approached a man standing outside.

Wesley called out, "Sir, there's a shelter-in-place order in effect. You need to get inside your house."

The man nodded, closed his truck, and walked towards his house.

Lucy, glancing in the rearview mirror, noticed a group of men armed with rifles.

"Uh, Wes," she said, her voice tight with concern.

The two officers got out of the patrol car and approached the group. Wesley shouted, "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Get your hands where I can see them, now!"

The men immediately raised their hands. Lucy added, "Stay right where you are."

One of the men said, "It's okay. We've got permits for the weapons, and our ammo is stored separately. It's all legal."

Wesley snapped back, "I don't care if it's legal. No good comes from you guys running around with assault rifles."

The man pulled out a chain with a badge from his vest and said, "We heard prisoners were on the loose. We have a right to protect our neighborhood."

Lucy retorted, "That's the job of law enforcement, not a makeshift militia."

Another man, holding a bound individual, shouted, "Got one! We've got a fugitive!"

The tied-up man pleaded, "Hey, get off me! I didn't do anything!"

Seeing Wesley and Lucy, the tied-up man begged, "Officers, please help me!"

Wesley said firmly, "Let him go. That's not who we're looking for."

The bound man added, "I kept telling them that!"

The man in the red hat challenged, "Are you sure? He looks guilty. At least check his papers."

Lucy said sharply, "Let him go. Now."

The man in the red hat reluctantly released the tied-up man. Lucy quickly moved to him, asking, "Are you okay?"

The freedman replied, "No, you should arrest them."

The first man argued, "Hey, screw that. The law says we can defend our neighborhood when in grave danger."

The released man protested, "I was just trimming a hedge!"

Wesley intervened, "Alright, that's enough. Back away."

The situation was tense, but Wesley and Lucy maintained control, ensuring the neighborhood remained safe and secure.

The released man stepped back, and Wesley sighed. "As misguided as they were, they believed they were making a citizen's arrest, so they haven't technically broken the law."

Lucy added, "But their names will be in our report. If you want to pursue a claim for emotional damages, you can."

The first man said, "Alright, alright. Let's all just go back and secure our homes. No hard feelings."

The released man gave Wesley a nod, and Wesley replied, "Fine. But if I catch you back out here again, I'll have you arrested for violating California Penal Codes 372 and 647b. Got it?"

The group of men nodded in agreement and walked away.

As Wesley and Lucy headed back to their patrol car, Lucy remarked, "647b is the code for prostitution."

Wesley chuckled and replied, "They don't need to know that."

Later

As Lucy and Wesley continued patrolling their assigned area, Lucy glanced over at Wesley, her concern still evident.

Lucy said, "Hey, Wesley. I just wanted to check in again. Are you sure you're okay? I was really worried when you didn't answer me on the radio after that prisoner attacked you."

Wesley nodded, keeping his eyes on the road. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit shaken up, but nothing I can't handle. Thanks for checking on me, though."

Lucy frowned slightly. "I mean it, Wesley. When you didn't respond, I thought the worst. It's hard not to worry when I can't see what's happening."

Wesley gave her a reassuring smile. "I get it. And I appreciate it. I should have answered you. I was a bit focused on the immediate threat. But I'm okay."

Lucy sighed with relief. "I'm glad to hear that. It's just... seeing you in that situation was tough. I want to make sure we're both safe out here."

Wesley looked over at her, his expression softening. "I appreciate that. And I want you to know, I'm always looking out for you too. We've got each other's backs."

Lucy smiled, feeling a bit more at ease. "Thanks, Wesley. That means a lot."

They continued driving through the neighborhood, both more relaxed knowing they had each other's support in the field.

At a mobile command center

Wesley and Lucy entered the mobile command center, joining the cluster of officers gathered around. Lucy stood close to Wesley, holding his hand for support as they listened to Grey's update.

Grey started, "Let's begin with some good news. We've apprehended three more fugitives, leaving only two still on the run. However, these remaining fugitives are going to be particularly challenging to catch, which is why we've brought in Jessica Russo for assistance."

John recognized Jessica from their earlier training and said, "Jessica Russo?"

Jessica confirmed, "That's right. Given that the fugitives have likely evaded our perimeter, we need to delve into their psychology to predict their next moves."

Tim chimed in, "Predictive analytics?"

Jessica replied, "Exactly. Although, I sense some skepticism."

Tim clarified, "Not at all, ma'am. I believe hitting the streets is still the most effective approach."

Jessica continued, "Well, let's consider Narcos Gibson. Despite being only 24, he's been entrenched in the 54th Street gang for over a decade. Recently, he was sentenced to 12 years at Victorville for aggravated assault and attempted murder."

Grey added, "The 54th Street gang will undoubtedly go to great lengths to help him escape."

Bishop warned, "Including potentially smuggling him out of the state."

Tim offered, "I have a contact within the 54th Street gang who might provide valuable insight. Wick and Chen, you should speak with him."

Wesley and Lucy exchanged a determined look, then walked out holding hands to meet Tim's contact.

Later

Back at the station

As Wesley and Lucy walked back into the station, Lucy asked, "What's predictive analytics?"

Wesley replied, "It's using historical data to forecast future trends. The feds love that stuff. According to Tim, they'd rather stay behind a desk than hit the streets."

Lucy said, "But if it helps solve a crime or find a fugitive, isn't it worth using?"

Wesley smirked, "Tim would probably ask you whose side you're on."

Lucy laughed, "I'd tell him I didn't know there were sides. But if I had to choose, definitely yours."

Wesley spotted a man approaching and said, "Deacon, Tim says thanks for coming in."

Deacon nodded, "No problem. Figured Tim would call me today."

Lucy introduced herself, "Hi, I'm Lucy Chen."

Deacon smiled, "Nice to meet you, Lucy. Deacon Joe. Bradford's next victim, huh?"

Lucy grinned, "I didn't know I was on the list. Although, I suppose I'm Wesley's next victim—Tim's taking a backseat in my training."

Deacon laughed, "I like her. But it's unusual for Bradford to let someone else handle his rookies. You must be the special Officer Wick he mentioned. I was Tim's first arrest and one of the few to be rehabilitated in a maximum-security prison."

Wesley chuckled, "He's not wrong."

Lucy quipped, "So, Deacon, any advice for surviving Bradford's training?"

Deacon grinned, "Stick close to Wick."

Lucy said, "Thanks for the heads-up."

Deacon replied, "No problem."

Wesley added, "Alright, let's get to it. We need to find Marcos Gibson before he links up with the 5-4."

Deacon said, "Marcos was under my wing for a while, but he fell in with the 5-4. Right now, though, they're the last place he'll want to be."

Wesley asked, "Why's that?"

Deacon explained, "He was involved with Keon's woman just before his trial."

Wesley smirked, shaking his head.

Lucy asked, "Who's Keon?"

Wesley said, "Tim mentioned Keon is the leader of the 5-4. Marcos must be asking for trouble."

Deacon nodded, "Exactly. If Keon catches Marcos before you do, he'll be dead meat."

Later

Wesley and Lucy walked through the station to find Lopez, who was busy with paperwork at her desk. Wesley approached her with a sense of urgency.

Wesley said, "Lopez, you got a moment?"

Lopez looked up, nodding. "Sure, what's up?"

Wesley said, "I need an update on any new leads or fugitives."

Lopez pulled up a file and said, "We've got one in custody, Oscar Hutchinson. We picked him up a couple of hours ago. He's been linked to the recent break from the prison transport."

Wesley's eyes widened. "Oscar Hutchinson? I know that name."

Lopez raised an eyebrow. "You do?"

Wesley nodded, his expression becoming serious. "Yeah, Hutchinson was an informant for the Fraternity. I remember him from back in the day. We kept him on the inside as a reliable source."

Lucy looked at Wesley, puzzled. "So, what's he doing with the fugitives?"

Wesley said, "If he's mixed up with them now, it's a serious problem. He could have vital information on the 5-4's movements and plans."

Lopez said, "He didn't offer much during questioning, but he might be more cooperative with the right incentives. Should I bring him in for you?"

Wesley said, "Definitely. I want to talk to him myself. See if he's willing to trade any intel for a deal. We need to know what he knows about the 5-4's next move."

Lopez nodded and headed off to arrange for Hutchinson to be brought in.

Lucy turned to Wesley. "Do you think he'll be willing to cooperate?"

Wesley said, "Hutchinson always was good at looking out for himself. If he thinks there's something in it for him, he might talk. Let's hope he's still got that self-preservation instinct."

Lucy said, "Let's find out."

As they waited for Hutchinson to be brought in, Wesley and Lucy prepared for the interrogation, knowing that Hutchinson's information could be the key to tracking down the remaining fugitives and unraveling the 5-4's plans.

Later

Wesley entered the dimly lit interrogation room, where Oscar Hutchinson was sitting at a metal table, his hands cuffed in front of him. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting a harsh light on Hutchinson's disheveled appearance. Wesley's presence was commanding, and Hutchinson's eyes widened as he looked up.

As Wesley approached, Hutchinson's face broke into a wide, almost joyful grin. "Killer! Is that you?"

Wesley, taken aback but smiling, responded, "Oscar Hutchinson. It's been a while."

Hutchinson leaned forward, his face lighting up with recognition and relief. "Man, it's good to see you! I didn't think I'd run into you again, not like this."

Wesley took a seat across from him. "Yeah, funny how things turn out. I hear you've been keeping busy."

Hutchinson laughed, the sound echoing off the cold walls. "Keeping busy? That's one way to put it. What's the deal? You here to offer me a deal, or just catch up?"

Wesley said, "Let's just say I'm here to see what you know. You've been tangled up with some dangerous people lately. I need to know what you've been up to and if there's anything you can share."

Hutchinson's smile faded slightly, but he still looked hopeful. "You know me, Killer. I always had a knack for being in the right place at the right time. Or the wrong place, depending on how you look at it. What's in it for me?"

Wesley said, "Help me out, and I can see about making your stay here a bit more comfortable. Maybe even help you out with a better deal."

Hutchinson leaned back, thinking it over. "Alright, alright. I'll give you what I've got. But you better make good on that promise. I'm not exactly enjoying the hospitality here."

Wesley nodded. "Fair enough. Let's start with what you know about the 5-4 and the remaining fugitives."

Hutchinson's expression grew serious as he began to share what he knew, detailing the movements and plans of the 5-4. Wesley listened intently, making mental notes and asking follow-up questions to clarify key points.

As the interrogation continued, Wesley remained focused, knowing that Hutchinson's information was crucial in tracking down the remaining fugitives and preventing further chaos.

As Wesley listened to Hutchinson's information, the conversation took a turn. Hutchinson leaned back, still processing his surroundings. He looked at Wesley with a mixture of disbelief and curiosity.

"You know," Hutchinson said, shaking his head, "I can't believe it. The most famous and ruthless assassin—now a cop and a father? I heard the rumors when I was being transferred in, but I thought it was all just chatter."

Wesley raised an eyebrow, his expression remaining calm. "Rumors tend to spread quickly. How did you come across that information?"

Hutchinson shrugged. "In this line of work, you pick up things here and there. But I didn't expect you of all people to be wearing the badge. It's... well, it's something."

Wesley chuckled softly. "Life has a way of taking unexpected turns. I've made choices and taken paths that brought me here. Now, I'm just trying to do my part to clean up the messes I was once a part of."

Hutchinson's eyes widened. "So it's true then? You're a father?"

Wesley nodded. "Yeah. Two kids now. It's a whole different kind of responsibility. Makes me want to make sure the world they grow up in is a little safer."

Hutchinson whistled, impressed. "Wow. Guess you're not the same man I used to hear about. I gotta admit, it's kind of inspiring. Never thought I'd see the day."

Wesley gave a small, wry smile. "People change, Oscar. Sometimes for the better, sometimes not. I'm here to make sure this change is for the better."

Hutchinson nodded, his expression softening. "Alright, Killer. I'll help you out. You've got my word. Just remember, we all have our pasts, but it's what we do now that counts."

Wesley's expression grew serious again as he leaned in. "That's exactly right. So let's focus on what you know about the 5-4 and the remaining fugitives. Every detail counts."

Hutchinson began to relay crucial information once more, knowing that this could be his chance to make amends and perhaps even turn his life around. Wesley listened intently, aware that this conversation was vital in the search for the fugitives and maintaining order.

As Wesley wrapped up the interrogation, he gathered crucial information about the remaining fugitives and the 5-4 gang. He was about to leave when Oscar leaned back, a nostalgic look crossing his face.

"You know," Oscar said, his voice taking on a reflective tone, "it's wild to think about the old days. I remember when you were the guy everyone feared—Killer, they called you. And I was just the informant in the shadows, feeding you leads."

Wesley paused, looking at Oscar. "Yeah, those were some different times. It was a different world for both of us."

Oscar's eyes grew distant. "You had this way of just... making things happen. People would talk about you like you were some kind of ghost. And here I am, seeing you as a cop now. It's almost like a story out of a book."

Wesley nodded, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "It was a different life. A dangerous one. We both played our parts in that world."

Oscar chuckled softly. "I remember the time you were after that one target. I was in the dark, just giving you scraps of info. It was intense. You were always two steps ahead and never missed a beat. It's strange to think about how far we've both come since then."

Wesley's smile faded, replaced by a thoughtful expression. "We were part of a system that didn't give much thought to the collateral damage. It was all about the mission, the targets, and the next step. I can't change the past, but I can try to make a difference now."

Oscar's tone turned serious. "You know, I've seen a lot of guys like you, ruthless and relentless. But you were different. Even back then, there was something... more. Maybe that's why you're standing here now, on the other side of the law."

Wesley sighed. "Maybe. Or maybe it's just that everyone has a breaking point, a moment when they decide to change their path. I chose to make mine a bit better."

Oscar nodded slowly. "I get it. And, I guess... it's good to see you've found some sort of redemption. Even if it's in the strangest of places."

Wesley straightened, ready to leave. "Thanks, Oscar. Your information will help us close this case. Stay safe, and maybe keep those old stories to yourself, yeah?"

Oscar grinned. "You got it. And Wesley—good luck out there. You're doing more than just putting away bad guys. You're showing that change is possible."

Wesley gave a nod of appreciation before heading out. As he walked away, he reflected on the strange twists of fate that had brought him from his old life to his new one. The past was a heavy shadow, but it was the present—and the future—that mattered most.

Wesley left the interrogation room and spotted Lopez across the station, reviewing some paperwork. He walked over, catching her attention. She looked up her expression a mix of curiosity and concern.

"Hey, Wesley," Lopez greeted. "Did Hutchinson give you the info you needed?"

"Yeah," Wesley replied, nodding. "He's been pretty cooperative. I've got a solid lead on the remaining fugitives."

Lopez's gaze sharpened. "You know, while you were in there, I did a bit of digging on Hutchinson. I heard he was your informant back in the day. Is that true?"

Wesley hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, it's true. He was an informant I used when I was an assassin. He helped me track targets."

Lopez raised an eyebrow, processing the information. "So, you were working with him to find people to... eliminate?"

Wesley's expression grew somber. "That's right. It was a different time, a different life. We had a very transactional relationship back then. He gave me information, I got the job done. It was all business."

Lopez's eyes narrowed. "You know, it's kind of unsettling to think about. You were this... feared figure, and he was feeding you intel. Now, here you are, working to bring down the very people you used to hunt. It's like night and day."

Wesley sighed, looking away. "It's strange to think about it that way. I didn't have time to consider the morality of it all back then. It was a job, and I did it. But that's why I'm here now. I'm trying to make up for the past, trying to do something good."

Lopez studied him for a moment. "I get that. It's hard to reconcile who you were with who you are now. But you're not the same person you used to be. You're trying to make a difference. And that's what matters."

Wesley nodded appreciatively. "Thanks, Lopez. It's a lot to process, but I'm trying to focus on the present and make things right."

Lopez smiled a touch of understanding in her eyes. "Well, let's focus on getting these fugitives and making sure Hutchinson's intel helps us put an end to this. We've got a job to do."

Wesley smiled back, grateful for her support. "Agreed. Let's get to it."

With a renewed sense of purpose, Wesley and Lopez headed back to their tasks, determined to close the case and ensure justice was served.

Wesley and Lopez started walking towards the command center, their conversation shifting to the ongoing operation. Wesley's expression grew serious as he considered the implications of their recent interaction with Hutchinson.

"Lopez," Wesley said, his voice low and steady, "I need you to keep your eyes open, especially when you're around Hutchinson. He may have given us valuable information, but don't forget—Oscar's primary concern is always going to be himself. He's a survivor, not a saint."

Lopez met his gaze with a nod. "I'll be cautious. You think he might try something?"

Wesley nodded. "It's not out of the realm of possibility. He's smart and self-preserving. Just keep an eye on Jackson too. We can't afford any surprises. If Hutchinson sees an opportunity to play both sides, he'll take it."

Lopez's expression was one of determination. "Understood. We'll be on high alert."

Wesley gave a small, reassuring smile. "Thanks. I know it's a lot to ask, but I trust you and Jackson to handle it. I just don't want any of us to be blindsided. We're dealing with dangerous people, and Hutchinson's a wildcard in all this."

Lopez's demeanor softened slightly as she placed a hand on Wesley's shoulder. "Don't worry. We've got this. We'll make sure nothing slips through the cracks."

Wesley nodded, feeling a bit more at ease. "Alright. Let's keep moving. We've got a job to finish."

As they continued their work, Lopez couldn't shake the thought of Hutchinson's manipulative tendencies. But she focused on the task at hand, determined to ensure that no one's agenda would compromise their mission.

Lucy and Jackson walked over to Wesley and Lopez, who were finishing up their conversation.

Lucy asked, "Hey, do we have a plan to track down Marcos?"

Wesley replied, "Yeah, we'll hit the streets and put pressure on some of his associates. I'll catch up with you later, Lopez."

As Lucy handed Wesley a coffee, Lopez called out, "Hey, Wick. Don't worry about Hutchinson. West and I will keep him in check."

Wesley nodded, "Just don't take everything he says at face value. He's good at manipulating people."

Lopez gave a reassuring nod. "Got it. Stay safe out there."

With a final nod, Wesley and Lucy headed towards their patrol car.

Lucy glanced at Wesley. "You warned Lopez about Hutchinson?"

Wesley nodded. "Yeah, she needs to be cautious. Hutchinson's unpredictable."

Just then, Wesley's phone buzzed. He glanced at it and said, "Hot damn."

Lucy looked curious. "What's up?"

Wesley grinned. "Text from Tim. He heard from Deacon. They've got Marcos."

With that, they climbed into their patrol car, coffee in hand, ready to move out and follow up on the lead.

At night

At Deacon's Street

Wesley and Lucy pulled up to Deacon's house in their patrol car.

Wesley grabbed the radio and said, "Control, we're on-site at 1115 Amador Street."

As he turned onto the street, he muttered, "Damn it," seeing a group of people blocking the road.

He sighed and said, "The 5-4 must've heard about Marcos being here."

Lucy looked at him and asked, "What do we do, babe?"

Wesley replied, "Stay calm and be ready for trouble, honey."

He rolled down the window and subtly drew his gun from its holster, keeping it pointed down.

A man approached and peered into the patrol car.

The man greeted, "Hello, Officer. Lovely evening."

Wesley smiled and responded, "It sure is. What's everyone doing out here?"

The man said, "Just exercising our constitutional right to assemble."

Wesley smirked and said, "God bless America."

The man nodded. "Mm-hmm."

Wesley added, "Well, I suggest you all assemble somewhere else."

The man asked, "Is that an order?"

Wesley replied, "Consider it friendly advice."

The man said, "We appreciate the concern, Officer, but we're not going anywhere."

Wesley said, "Then maybe I'll see you later."

The man responded, "Count on it."

Seeing the man straighten up, Wesley rolled up his window and holstered his gun.

He maneuvered the car past the group and into Deacon's driveway, parking at an angle.

Lucy sighed as Wesley turned off the engine. He then grabbed the radio and said, "Control, patch me through to 7-L-20."

Grey's voice came through, "7-Adam-19, report."

Wesley said, "We've got a situation here, Sergeant. About 15 gang members are gearing up to come after Marcos Gibson. Chen and I managed to get through, but the 5-4 will be on him soon."

Grey responded, "I just sent all available units to Nolan's hostage situation in Culver City. I'll redirect some units to you."

Wesley said, "Sir, this is a family neighborhood. If shots are fired, kids could get hurt."

Grey asked, "What are you suggesting, Wick?"

Wesley replied, "Have the units stage away from our location until we have overwhelming force. Anything less will result in a body count. We'll manage with what we've got for now."

He put the radio back and turned to Lucy. "Is that all right, Boot?"

Lucy nodded, "I'm just worried we won't see the kids if this goes wrong."

Wesley said, "We have to stay positive. I love you, Boot."

Lucy smiled, "I love you too, sir."

They unbuckled their seatbelts just as they heard glass breaking. They quickly made their way to Deacon's house.

Lucy asked, "What are the odds they'll leave if we ask nicely?"

An engine roared, and they turned to see a truck pulling up.

Lucy scoffed, "Oh, come on."

Wesley rushed to the door, opened the screen door, and knocked.

Deacon answered, "What's the plan?"

Wesley said, "First, let us in."

Deacon opened the door, and Wesley motioned for Lucy to go in first. Wesley followed and shut the door behind them.

Marcos, eyes wide, said, "First time I've ever been happy to see cops."

Wesley nodded. "Cuff him, Boot."

Marcos protested, "What? Whoa, hold up! No, you-- I need my hands free in case I gotta fight."

Lucy, firm but calm, replied, "I hate to break it to you, but if it comes to a fight, your hands won't make a difference. Turn around. Now."

Reluctantly, Marcos turned around. As Lucy secured the cuffs, Wesley scanned the room and asked, "Is there a way out through the back?"

Deacon shook his head. "No, they've got guys back there too. I saw them when Keon rolled up."

As Lucy finished cuffing Marcos, a voice from outside shouted, "Bring him out! We know he's in there! We'll be here all night! Stop acting like he ain't here!"

The crowd outside grew louder, chanting for them to bring Marcos out.

Wesley glanced at Marcos, his expression hardening as the gravity of the situation sank in.

After a few tense minutes, the sound of shattering glass filled the air as gang members outside began smashing Lucy and Wesley's patrol car with a bat. Wesley, watching from the window of Deacon's house, clenched his jaw.

He turned to Lucy with a wry smile. "That's gonna be a lot of paperwork for you, Boot."

Lucy shot him an incredulous look. "Seriously? That's what you're thinking about right now?"

She stepped closer, lowering her voice. "Hypothetically... is there ever a scenario where we just... give them what they want? Where we balance one life against the lives of many and... make that hard call?"

Wesley scoffed softly, shaking his head. "That call isn't ours to make. We're here to serve and protect. We don't get to decide who we serve or who we protect."

Lucy's eyes searched his, her voice heavy with concern. "So you're willing to die for him?"

Wesley's expression softened, his voice steady. "I'm unwilling to let fear make me do something I'll be ashamed of in the light of day. I've spent my life regretting the things I used to do. Now... I've made a vow to protect people, no matter what."

Lucy hesitated, her voice trembling slightly. "What about the kids? Nora and Mason? What happens to them if they lose their father?"

Wesley's gaze dropped for a moment before meeting hers again, the weight of his words clear. "I don't know. But I hope they never turn out like me. Deep down, I know I'm just a monster trying to fix his lost soul."

Lucy reached out and gently touched Wesley's arm, her eyes full of concern and something deeper—understanding. "You're not a monster, Wesley. Not anymore. You're a good man, trying to do the right thing. And that's why I'm here with you, no matter what."

Wesley gave her a small, grateful smile, though the tension in his eyes remained. "Thanks, Boot. But no matter how much we've changed, our pasts have a way of catching up with us."

Before Lucy could respond, they heard another loud crash outside, followed by shouting. The gang members were getting more agitated, their voices carrying threats and demands to hand over Marcos.

As the door creaked open, Wesley's pulse quickened. He saw Deacon stepping outside, and Lucy immediately called out, "Whoa, hey, where are you going?"

Deacon turned back, his expression grim but resolute. "I'm gonna talk."

Wesley cursed under his breath. "Damn it."

He moved quickly to the door, watching as Deacon approached the 5-4 gang members. The tension was thick in the air, every movement charged with potential violence. Wesley's heart sank as he saw one of the gang members suddenly lash out, punching Deacon in the stomach.

Slamming the door shut, Wesley turned to Lucy, his expression a mixture of determination and concern. "You stay here, Boot. No matter what happens to me, you protect him."

Lucy's eyes locked onto his, understanding the gravity of the situation. "I will. I love you."

Wesley nodded, his resolve hardening. "I love you too." With that, he opened the door again, stepping out into the night, leaving behind the safety of the house and the woman he loved.

He walked steadily towards the group, his eyes fixed on Keon, the leader of the 5-4. "Hey, leave him alone!" Wesley called out, his voice cutting through the tense silence. "You want to beat someone up, I'm right here."

Keon turned to face Wesley, his eyes narrowing. "The only one I want is Marcos. You give him up, and we're out of here."

Wesley's jaw tightened. "I can't do that."

Keon took a step closer, his tone growing more menacing. "Look, I got no beef with you or Joe. But that fool in there—he was creeping with my old lady. So he's gotta get dealt with! Give up, Wick. You're alone. Outnumbered."

Wesley let out a low, almost amused chuckle, his gaze unwavering. "You must not know who you're dealing with. Ever heard of the Fraternity of Assassins?"

The gang members exchanged uncertain glances, their bravado momentarily shaken.

Keon scoffed, trying to mask his unease. "What, you gonna sick some assassins on us to back off?"

Wesley took a deliberate step forward, his voice dropping to a lethal calm. "I was an assassin for the Fraternity. They called me... The Killer."

The effect was immediate. The group visibly tensed, the weight of Wesley's revelation sinking in. The man they had thought was just another cop was far more dangerous than they had ever imagined.

The gang members stood frozen, their bravado rapidly evaporating as Wesley's words settled in. Keon's confident posture faltered, his eyes flicking between his crew and the man standing before them—no longer just a cop, but a shadow from a past they barely understood.

Wesley's expression darkened, his voice low and controlled. "You think you know pain? You think you've been through hell? I could bring a world of pain to every single one of you that you can't even begin to imagine."

He took another step forward, his presence overwhelming. "I've taken out men twice your size, with twice your experience, without breaking a sweat. Do you want to threaten me? You want to threaten the people I care about?" His voice dropped to a near whisper, laced with a deadly edge. "I could tear your entire crew apart, piece by piece, without ever letting you see it coming."

The tension in the air was suffocating, the 5-4 members visibly shaken. They had come here expecting to intimidate, to assert their dominance—but now they were standing face to face with someone who embodied a level of violence they had only heard of in whispers.

Keon swallowed hard, trying to regain his composure, but the fear was evident in his eyes. "This...this isn't your fight, Wick. Just hand over Marcos, and we'll be gone. No need for anyone to get hurt."

Wesley's gaze remained icy, unyielding. "If you think I'm going to stand by and let you hurt him, you're dead wrong. I've spent my life causing pain, but now I'm here to stop it. I'm not handing anyone over, and I'm sure as hell not letting you walk away thinking you can run this city."

He paused, letting his words sink in. "So go ahead. Make your move. But know this—if you do, I'll bring a level of pain and destruction that'll haunt you and your crew for the rest of your lives. And it'll start with you, Keon."

Keon's bravado shattered completely. He looked at his crew, searching for any sign of backing, but all he saw was fear in their eyes. Wesley had stripped away any illusion of power they thought they had.

Wesley didn't move, didn't flinch. He simply stood there, a living embodiment of every nightmare these gang members had ever had. And at that moment, they knew—they were out of their depth, facing a man who was willing to do whatever it took to protect those he cared about.

Keon finally took a step back, his voice shaking as he muttered, "Let's go. This ain't worth it."

The gang slowly retreated, their earlier confidence replaced by a cold, hard fear. Wesley watched them go, his expression unreadable, but the weight of what had just transpired hung heavily in the air.

As the last of the 5-4 gang members disappeared into the night, Wesley finally allowed himself to breathe. The tension that had coiled tightly within him began to unwind, and he felt the adrenaline that had kept his steady start to dissipate. His hand instinctively went to his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heart beneath his fingers. He let out a hitched breath, the realization of just how close he'd come to a deadly confrontation sinking in.

He had faced down more dangerous situations in his past, but something about this was different. Maybe it was because now he had more to lose—more people counting on him, more at stake than just his own life. The thought of leaving Lucy, Nora, Mason, and even his team behind tightened his chest with a fear he rarely allowed himself to feel.

His breath hitched again as he leaned against the side of the house, his eyes briefly closing. He wasn't invincible, and for a moment, he had genuinely thought that he might not make it out of this one alive. The way Keon and his crew had stared him down, the flash of violence in their eyes—it had taken every ounce of his composure to stand his ground and not let them see the fear creeping in.

Lucy's voice cut through the silence, soft and full of concern. "Wesley?" She had been watching from the doorway, her fear and anxiety barely concealed as she stepped out to join him.

Wesley opened his eyes and looked at her, his hand still pressed to his chest as if trying to ground himself. "I thought... for a second there... I thought they were going to kill me." His voice was raw, the vulnerability he rarely showed now laid bare.

Lucy closed the distance between them, her eyes filled with worry. "But they didn't. You scared them off, Wesley. You were incredible." She reached up, cupping his face with one hand, the other gently pulling his hand away from his chest. "You're okay. We're okay."

Wesley nodded, though the weight of what could have been still lingered. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but the emotion of the moment clung to him like a shadow. "I just... I've done a lot of things, Lucy. Terrible things. And tonight... if they had... I just don't want to leave you or the kids. Not like that."

Lucy's expression softened, and she pulled him into a tight embrace, her voice a soothing whisper in his ear. "You're not going anywhere. We're going to get through this, just like we always do. You're not that person anymore, Wesley. You're a father, a partner, and someone who fights for what's right. And I love you for it."

Wesley held onto her, his arms wrapped around her as if she were his anchor. He could still feel the adrenaline pulsing through his veins, but Lucy's presence calmed him and reminded him of what he had to live for. "I love you too, Boot. More than anything."

They stood there for a moment, just holding each other, letting the intensity of the night melt away. Whatever came next, they would face it together. Wesley wasn't alone anymore, and that made all the difference.

Wesley gently released Lucy from their embrace and quickly pulled out his radio, his focus shifting back to the situation at hand. "Control, this is 7-Adam-19," he said, his voice steady. "Patch me through to 7-L-20."

A brief pause followed before Grey's voice crackled over the radio. "7-Adam-19, go ahead."

"Sergeant, I need a unit dispatched to my location ASAP," Wesley replied, his tone firm but calm. "I managed to scare off the 5-4 by revealing my past as 'The Killer' from the Fraternity. They backed down, but I don't know how long that will last."

Grey's voice came through the radio, a mix of concern and authority. "Wick, you what? Are you out of your mind?"

Wesley took a deep breath, steadying himself. "I did what I had to do, Sergeant. It was the only way to get them to back off without bloodshed. They were ready to tear this place apart."

Grey sighed audibly before responding, "Alright, Wick, listen up. I'm sending backup your way, but you need to get everyone out of there safely. We can't risk another confrontation with the 5-4, especially now that they know who you are."

"Understood, Sergeant," Wesley replied, his tone resolute. "We'll hold the line until the cavalry arrives."

"Just keep your head on straight, Wick," Grey said, his voice softening slightly. "And don't do anything else reckless. We can't afford to lose you out there."

"Copy that, Sergeant. We'll be ready." Wesley glanced at Lucy, who was watching him with a mix of concern and admiration. "We'll make it through this."

As Wesley and Lucy stood guard in front of Deacon's house, the sound of approaching sirens grew louder. Within moments, a police car pulled up, its lights flashing. Two officers quickly stepped out, assessing the situation.

Wesley nodded to the officers. "Take Marcos," he ordered.

The officers moved swiftly, securing Marcos and guiding him into the back of the police car. Marcos, still shaken, glanced back at Wesley, who gave him a stern look, reminding him to stay silent.

Another police car pulled up right behind the first, and an officer stepped out, motioning for Wesley and Lucy. "We'll get you back to the station," the officer said.

Wesley nodded, then turned to Lucy. "Let's go, Boot."

The two walked over to the waiting car, the tension slowly easing as they knew they were heading out of a dangerous situation. Wesley opened the door for Lucy before getting in himself. As they settled in, Wesley grabbed the radio from his belt.

"Control, 7-Adam-19," Lucy said into the radio, her voice calm but firm. "We have the fugitive suspect in custody. Show us Code 4."

There was a brief pause before Grey's voice responded, sounding relieved. "Copy that, 7-Adam-19. Good work. Bring him in. We'll handle the rest."

Lucy placed the radio back on her belt, leaning back in the seat. Wesley glanced at Lucy, who gave him a reassuring smile. "We made it through," she said softly.

Wesley nodded, a small smile forming on his lips. "Yeah, we did. Let's get back and wrap this up."

At the station

Wesley walked back into the station, his mind still buzzing from the intense events of the day. As he approached Grey's office, he hesitated for a moment before knocking on the door.

"Come in," Grey's voice called out.

Wesley opened the door and stepped inside, immediately noticing Jessica Russo standing next to Grey. "Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. I can come back later," Wesley offered, glancing between them.

Grey shook his head. "No need, Wick. Actually, there's something important I need to discuss with you."

Wesley nodded and walked further into the office, standing at attention. "Yes, sir."

Grey leaned back in his chair, studying Wesley for a moment. "Over the past five months, I've been observing you closely. You've taken on responsibilities that go far beyond what's expected of a rookie. You're not just a rookie anymore, Wick. You've stepped up in ways that most don't, and because of that... I'm promoting you to P2."

Wesley blinked in surprise, the news hitting him like a ton of bricks. "But, sir, I haven't even been in the field for a full year yet."

Grey smiled a hint of pride in his eyes. "You've been doing more than most officers with years of experience. You've been mentoring rookies, and showing leadership. I don't see you as a rookie anymore, and that's why I recommended to Captain Andersen that you be promoted early. All that's left is for you to take the test, and the promotion is yours."

Wesley's face broke into a wide smile. "You're serious?"

Grey arched an eyebrow, his tone teasing. "Do I look like I'm joking, Wick?"

Wesley shook his head, still processing the news. "No, sir. It's just... this feels surreal. Everything's moving so fast, and I'm trying to keep up."

Jessica chuckled softly, stepping forward. "Congratulations, Officer Wick. You've earned it."

Wesley nodded, still beaming. "Thank you, sir. And thank you, Jessica. I won't let you down."

Jessica gave Wesley a thoughtful look, a hint of a smile playing at her lips. "Officer Wick, I think there's something else you might be suited for."

Wesley raised an eyebrow. "What's that, ma'am?"

Jessica's smile widened. "How about considering a promotion to Sergeant? You could take the test in a few months, and I hear there might be some openings."

Grey, catching the conversation, glanced at Jessica with a curious look. She returned a mischievous smirk. Grey then turned back to Wesley and said, "The test is in a couple of months. How does that sound to you, Wick?"

Wesley's eyes widened in surprise. "Really? I'm incredibly grateful for this opportunity. But are you sure?"

Grey nodded. "Absolutely. You've shown more than enough potential. If you're up for the challenge, it's yours."

Wesley looked between them, a mix of excitement and disbelief on his face. "I'm honored and excited. I'll do my best to live up to the expectations."

Jessica nodded approvingly. "That's the spirit. We believe in your potential, Wesley. Just keep doing what you're doing, and you'll be ready for the test in no time."

Grey added, "You've already made a significant impact as a rookie, and it's clear you're ready for more responsibility. Keep up the hard work."

Wesley's smile grew. "Thank you both. I won't let you down."

Jessica stood up, extending her hand. "Congratulations, Officer Wick. I'm looking forward to seeing you in action."

Wesley shook her hand firmly. "Thank you, ma'am."

As Wesley turned to leave, Grey said, "Oh, and Wesley—make sure you keep an eye on those rookie mistakes. You're leading by example now."

Wesley chuckled, "Will do, sir. I'll make sure to set a good example."

Jessica gave a final nod and said, "We'll be in touch about the details of the test. In the meantime, keep up the good work."

Wesley left the office, a sense of accomplishment and anticipation filling him. As he walked down the hallway, he felt the weight of the new responsibility and the excitement of the future challenges ahead.

At Zoe's apartment

Wesley and Lucy arrived at Zoe's apartment, and Wesley opened the door for Lucy before they both stepped inside and set their bags aside.

Lucy grinned, "Oooh, thank you, kind sir."

Wesley chuckled, but his attention shifted to the babysitter, who was by the couch.

Wesley said, "Oh, you must be the babysitter Zoe mentioned."

The woman stood up, revealing herself to be Melissa.

Wesley's eyes widened. "Melissa?"

Melissa looked equally surprised. "Officer Wick? I knew I was working for a cop family, but I didn't realize it was you."

Wesley asked, "How are the twins?"

Melissa smiled warmly. "They're great. I just put them down for the night, sir."

Wesley shook his head. "Please, no need for 'sir.' I don't feel I deserve that respect for what happened before."

Melissa's expression softened. "You've changed, Officer Wick. I was wrong about you. I'd be happy to come back and babysit for Nora and Mason."

Wesley smiled genuinely. "If that's what you want, I'd be glad to have you."

Melissa nodded and said, "Perfect. I'll see you tomorrow."

Wesley watched as Melissa left and then turned to Lucy.

Lucy asked, "That's the girl whose brother you...?"

Wesley nodded. "Yeah."

Lucy gave a reassuring smile. "Looks like she's found a way to move past it."

Wesley replied, "Let's hope so."

Lucy suggested, "Let's head to bed while we can."

Wesley agreed, "All right, let's go," and they made their way to the bedroom, where they settled in for the night with the twins sleeping soundly in their bassinets nearby.

To be continued...