(Mackenzie Ryan POV)

The buzz of fluorescent lights was the only greeting as I entered the classroom, the dim glow barely chasing away the shadows of the night. This was my reality, balancing the pursuit of higher education with the demands of my badge. Professor Viper, a name that elicited a collective groan among us students, stood at the front, his presence as chilling as the tales that preceded him.

Tonight, he seemed to revel in the tension, unveiling a vote that threatened to sever my academic aspirations. The question lingered like a dark cloud: “Should Officer Mackenzie Ryan remain in this class?” It was more than a query; it was a judgment on my very identity.

As a Highway Patrol officer, my uniform and badge were symbols of order, but here, they were targets for disdain. The vote was swift, a landslide against me. Yet, I stood tall, unflinching. I noted Professor Viper’s audacity—his challenge to my civil liberties would not go unanswered.

Stepping out into the night, the cool air was a balm to the stifling atmosphere I’d left behind. I settled into my car, the engine’s hum a familiar comfort. No need for a map; the route home was etched in my mind, a path I’d traveled countless times.

Driving away, I allowed myself a moment of respite. The thought of extra sleep was a small victory, a brief escape from the relentless pursuit of justice that defined my days.

The cityscape loomed, its silhouette a stark contrast against the twilight sky. My cousin-in-law, Mackenzie Smith-Ryan, was a force to be reckoned with in the federal ranks. Her pursuit of justice was relentless, her integrity unyielding. She was a beacon of truth in a profession clouded by silence and secrecy.

Her reputation for upholding civil liberties was unmatched, and she held even those within our ranks to the highest standard. Evidence was her ally, and she wielded it with precision, ensuring that justice was served without compromise.

As I navigated the quiet streets, a routine traffic stop unfolded. The red lights flashed across the storefronts, a silent siren call to duty. I presented my credentials, my badge number a testament to my commitment. The officer’s skepticism was a hurdle I faced too often, but truth was my shield.

I pondered how I might have reacted, my approach undoubtedly more direct. Yet, I chose to adhere to the principles that guided me, knowing that the battles worth fighting were those grounded in righteousness.

As I’d dubbed him, Officer Grumpy approached with a demeanor that spoke of weary experience. His words were sharp, a challenge to my claim of kinship with the law. But I stood my ground, my resolve unshaken.

Returning home, I sought solace in the simple comforts of domestic life. A call to my sister, Asyling, was a reminder of the bond we shared, unbreakable and true. We exchanged stories, finding humor in the day’s trials.

The news buzzed with the latest on the Bottlecap killer, a specter haunting the streets of Empire. The EPD Press Information was tight-lipped, the media grasping at straws. Speculation ran rampant, but the truth remained elusive, a puzzle yet to be solved.

In the quiet of my home, I reflected on the day, the challenges faced, and the path ahead. The pursuit of justice was a journey fraught with obstacles, but one I walked with unwavering determination.

With the night’s cloak draped over the city, I secured my sanctuary, a well-appointed first-floor apartment. The locks clicked into place, a symphony of safety in an uncertain world. Double-checking the door and patio entrances, I created a fortress against the unknown.

The Bottlecap Killer—a name that echoed through the corridors of the Empire Police Department, a riddle wrapped in darkness. How does one guard against a shadow? The EPD, with its storied history dating back to the 1710s, faced a foe unlike any before. No pattern, no face to the menace—just the chilling signature left behind.

In the silence of my home, the weight of responsibility settled on my shoulders. To protect and serve, yes, but also to outthink an adversary who defied all logic. The community looked to us for guidance, for reassurance, yet how could we ask them to be vigilant against a phantom?

But this is the burden we bear, the oath we uphold. As I settled in for the night, the reality of the challenge ahead was not lost on me. We would adapt, we would learn, and we would not rest until the streets of Empire were safe once more. For now, my home was my bastion, and within its walls, I found a moment’s peace amidst the storm.

But I’m thinking about how I could help in the investigation but I know there’s eight victims where Victim 1 (Technically Victim 5): A waitress from a vintage soda shop, her life’s struggles ended abruptly. Her body, the first found, sets the detectives on the trail of the “Bottlecap Killer.” Victims 2 to 4: Each from different backgrounds, their only link being the rare blood type and the killer’s calling card.the sixth victim a female office worker, and the 7th and 8th victims also office workers tangeled in an love affair with the 7th victim his wife not knowing the affair.

________________________________________________

(Asyling Ryan POV)

The morning was quiet, the kind that makes every sound carry farther than it should. I was parked in my patrol car, the dashboard lights casting a soft glow on the reports I was reviewing. That’s when a silver sedan zipped past, breaking the silence and the speed limit. Instincts honed from years on the force kicked in; I started the engine and followed.

With the siren’s wail slicing through the morning, I watched the sedan’s brake lights flare red before it coasted to the shoulder. I parked behind it, my hand instinctively checking my belt as I stepped out into the cool air.

Approaching the driver’s side, I tapped on the window with a practiced motion. “License and registration, please,” I said firmly as the window rolled down. Turning to the passenger, I added, “I’ll need to see your ID as well.”

The passenger, a man with a stern face, didn’t reach for his wallet. Instead, he presented a police badge. I met his gaze, unflinching. “Sir, your badge is respected, but for the record, I need your license or ID as well.”

It was a simple request, one that came with the territory, I knew the importance of protocol, of treating every individual with the same level of professionalism, badge or no badge. The morning was still young, and this was but one encounter in the city I swore to serve and protect.

The driver’s voice was tinged with indignation as she spoke, “My husband is a police officer—show him some damn courtesy!”

I stood firm, my voice steady. “Ma’am, within the 9th precinct’s jurisdiction, every off-duty officer is regarded as a civilian. The ‘blue wall of silence’ doesn’t apply here, nor does special treatment for off-duty cops. I need to see your license and registration, please.” I then turned to the passenger, “And sir, I will need to verify your license or ID card as well.”

Her hand hovered over the ignition, her other poised on the gear stick—a clear sign she was contemplating flight. I leaned in, my tone leaving no room for negotiation. “I’d advise against any thoughts of a chase,” I cautioned. “This isn’t about favoritism; it’s about the law. License and registration, please—both of you.”

Her response was a mix of confusion and defiance. “Why did you stop us?”

I replied, without missing a beat, “You were doing twenty over the speed limit. Now, I need your documents immediately, or I’ll call for backup and escalate this to a felony stop.” I paused, ensuring my words sank in. “The moment you were pulled over, I radioed in the stop. Even if you manage to evade me, an APB will go out for evading a traffic stop. So let’s drop the cavalier attitude and proceed according to the law.”

The standoff stretched on, the driver and her passenger sitting in stubborn silence, neither making a move to present their documents. My patience waned as I reached for my radio. “Dispatch, this is Captain Ryan. I need a unit at my location for a non-compliant traffic stop,” I called in, my voice calm but authoritative.

Their arrogance left me no choice but to escalate the situation. “This stop is now being upgraded to a felony stop due to your non-compliance,” I announced, my hand resting on my holster as a precaution.

That’s when I saw it—a glint of metal from within the car. The passenger’s sidearm had slipped out of its holster. My training took over. “Out of the car, now!” I commanded, pointing at the passenger. “Hands where I can see them, and exit the vehicle slowly!”

The moment her hand shifted the car from park to drive, I knew the situation had escalated. She floored the accelerator, and I was quick to respond, my own vehicle roaring to life as I gave chase. “Dispatch, Captain Ryan in pursuit,” I radioed, my eyes locked on the fleeing car.

I closed the distance rapidly, but the roadside was lined with steel barriers and an electrical box—obstacles that made a PIT maneuver too risky. I had to think of the city, the safety of its people, and the cost of potential damages. So I waited, biding my time as I relayed updates to dispatch.

Finally, an opportunity presented itself—an empty parking lot. It was the perfect setting to safely execute the maneuver. With precision, I spun their car around, effectively ending the chase. I positioned my cruiser to block their only exit, stepping out with authority. “This is where it ends,” I declared, ready to bring the law back into control.

With my .41 caliber revolver drawn, I used the patrol car as a shield. The adrenaline of the chase was still pulsing through my veins as I commanded, “Out of the car, hands up, and get onto the ground with your fingers interlaced!” Compliance was immediate; they knew the chase was over.

I approached the passenger first, the off-duty officer, and secured him in cuffs. My focus was absolute, each movement practiced and precise. Meanwhile, my fellow officers handled the driver, one making the arrest while the other provided cover—a seamless display of teamwork.

“Dispatch, this is Captain Ryan. We need a transport to the 9th Precinct,” I radioed, watching as the situation finally came under control.

______________________________________

The precinct was winding down from the last night’s earlier excitement, the buzz of radios and clacking of keyboards filling the air. I was in my office, the arrest report under my pen, when the phone rang. It was the Captain from the 15th Precinct on the line, his voice stern with authority.

“Captain Ryan,” he began, “I’m calling about the passenger you arrested—the off-duty officer. I’m asking you to release him.”

I listened, my grip on the receiver tightening. “Captain, with all due respect, the badge doesn’t exempt anyone from the law. Off-duty or not, he’s subject to the same rules as every citizen we serve,” I replied, my tone authoritative.

The Captain pressed on, but I stood my ground. “We’re not just enforcers of the law; we’re also its ambassadors. We can’t pick and choose which laws to follow and which to ignore. It’s not just about legality; it’s about integrity.”

As I hung up the phone, I knew my stance was clear. In the 9th Precinct, justice isn’t swayed by rank or title. It’s a standard I uphold without compromise, for the community and for the officers I lead.

Report filed and my mind still racing from the night’s events, I took a moment to walk the precinct’s halls. The lobby was quiet, the emblem of the Empire Police Department 9th Precinct—a proud blue badge set against a circle—greeting me with its bold declaration of incorporated since March 7, 1715.

The desk sergeant caught my eye, hanging up the phone with a look that spoke volumes. “Captain of the 15th Precinct called,” he said, echoing the firm stance I had taken earlier. “He’s not happy, plans to speak with the Commissioner.”

I nodded, understanding the weight of what that conversation could bring. If the Commissioner were to call, demanding the release of the off-duty officer I had arrested, my answer would remain unchanged. My resolve was born from a neighborhood that viewed the police skeptically, where slow responses and favoritism toward the rich were too common.

I was prepared to stand against the tide, even if it meant insubordination. The message was clear: I, would not shy away from arresting those who believe their badge grants them leniency with the law. It’s a principle I’m willing to defend, to the media if necessary, to ensure that justice remains blind to rank and privilege within these walls and beyond.

The Captain of the 15th Precinct and the Police Commissioner might benefit from a lesson in de-escalation, much like the one my twin sister learned before her unjust dismissal. She was taught the art of calming tensions, not igniting them—because when you push people too far, their reactions become unpredictable.

If it comes down to it, I won’t hesitate to give them both an earful, to remind them that bending the rules is not an option. I stand for what’s right, even if it means going against the grain. Upholding the law and maintaining the community's trust is paramount, and I will not waver from that path.

I wouldn’t shy away from the conversation. “Captain, Commissioner,” I’d say, “take a walk through Westside. Meet the hardworking folks who’ve seen too many promises fall flat. They’re wary because they’ve watched the police step slowly and turn blind eyes. Explain to them why an off-duty officer, caught breaking the law, should walk free when they’ve been held to every letter of it.”

I’d stand firm, my voice echoing the words of the neighborhood that raised me. “Westside’s proud of what we’ve achieved in the 9th Precinct. They’ve seen change, real change, and it’s because we’ve held everyone to the same standard—badge or no badge.”

The Empire Police Department (EPD) had its shadows, long and dark, stretching back through the ranks. Before I took the helm of the 9th Precinct, it was a different beast entirely—a beast I was determined to tame. The EPD was rife with officers who wore their badges not as symbols of honor, but as shields for their misdeeds. They were enforcers for the underworld, collecting dues for the mafia, turning blind eyes for a slice of the spoils. It was an open secret, one that festered like a wound within the city’s heart.

Captains and lieutenants, supposed paragons of justice, were deep in the pockets of those they should have been bringing to justice. Arrests were a farce; gang members were out on the streets before the ink on the paperwork had dried. It was a cycle of corruption that spun without end—until I stepped in.

You see, I’m from Westside, the same as my twin sister Mackenzie. We grew up where trust in the police was as scarce as a cool day in July. The people there knew the score—they saw how the police dragged their feet, how they prioritized the wealthy neighborhoods while leaving the struggling ones to fend for themselves. One car for a robbery in Westside, a fleet and a chopper for a shoplifter in the middle class or rich areas. It was a disparity that screamed injustice.

So when I became Captain, I did what needed to be done. I signed those pink slips with a heavy heart but a clear conscience. I purged the precinct of its rotten core because I believe in the old adage: “One bad apple spoils the whole bunch.” And I refuse to let the 9th Precinct be spoiled. I stand for the people of Westside, for the integrity of the badge, and for the true meaning of justice. And I will continue to stand, no matter the pressure, no matter the cost. Because that’s what it means to be Captain.

The irony wasn’t lost on me—the EPD Gang Unit, sworn to dismantle the very elements they ended up emulating. They were supposed to be the shield against the storm of gangs and narcotics, yet there they were, taking payoffs from the criminals they vowed to capture. It was a betrayal of everything the badge stood for, a hypocrisy that gnawed at the department’s credibility.

In the districts of Eastside and Westside, the local gangs were a different breed. They weren’t peddlers of chaos; they were keepers of peace. They provided a semblance of order where the EPD failed, stepping in to fill the void of safety and stability. These gangs weren’t our enemies; they were reluctant allies, forced into roles they shouldn’t have had to assume.

And yet, the Gang Unit targeted them, planting evidence, twisting justice to fit their corrupt narrative. But I couldn’t stand idly by. I released those wrongfully detained, those from Eastside and Westside who were victims of the Unit’s treachery. It was a stand for truth, a declaration that the 9th Precinct would not be complicit in such deceit.

Of course I would talk to them out of uniform as a civilian not a cop but as a civilian because I want to give them the impression that they’re talking to a old neighbor not a person who works for an unfair system. While yes I’m a cop and everyday at roll call I remind my officers not to break the law and what not like I always tell them not to do anything that can be considered profiling.

The Empire Police Department doesn’t have the best reputation because of many high-profile incidents of police misconducts, and not really having accountability so in the nighborhoods of Eastside, and Westside the Police Department is despised because when detectives once went to Eastside to investigate a robbery they slow step the investigation of trying to get onto other robbery cases and put that robbery case in Eastside at the bottom of the pile but by the time they got to the case well what was stolen was long gone and wouldn’t ever be recovered and if the police did arrest the robber after two years after the robbery well that would be an uphill battle in court because of people’s memories fading in and out and how if it did go to trial well the shop owner couldn’t afford to shut down his store for a day to go and testify in court. So when I became Capt. to me I told my officers and detective that they have to respond to a lot of calls and investigate every crime that needs detectives because avoiding said calls in those sends the people of those two districts that they don’t matter and when we do go and help it just causes a divide between them and us and want to avoid that.

In the precinct, I make it my duty to remind the officers under my command about the sanctity of evidence. “Concrete evidence,” I stress, “is the cornerstone of lawful arrests and just trials.” In Little Bird, the courts demand it, the law upholds it, and justice depends on it.

The accused have rights—rights to see the evidence against them, to contest it. Planted or surprise evidence? It’s more than just frowned upon; it’s outright illegal. It undermines the very fabric of our legal system. And withholding evidence? That’s not just unethical; it’s a violation of due process.

I drill into my officers the importance of direct evidence over circumstantial. “Without it,” I say, “you’re handing a defense attorney the case on a silver platter.” Judges in Little Bird won’t tolerate games; they’ll dismiss charges that don’t directly tie an accused to a crime or that blindside the defense.

Yes, Little Bird may be a police state, but it stands firm on the principle of fair trials. The right to a fair trial, to contest charges, to seek retrial or appeal at a higher court—these are not just privileges; they are fundamental rights. And as I uphold these rights with unwavering commitment, ensuring that my precinct is a beacon of integrity in a system that demands nothing less.

In Little Bird, the law is clear: interrogation must be conducted within the bounds of humanity and the Constitution. “No cruel or unusual methods,” I remind my detectives. “No torture.” Such tactics not only violate the suspect’s rights but also taint the integrity of any confession or evidence obtained. Anything said under duress is hearsay, inadmissible in court, and dismissed as a product of fear.

The District Attorney’s office and the judiciary are un moving on this stance. Evidence extracted through intimidation is void, for justice cannot be built on coercion. “Secure your evidence properly,” I instruct my officers. “Lock it away safely in evidence lockers.” The chain of custody must be pristine; any hint of tampering, any movement without proper protocol, renders it compromised.

Gazing out the window, I caught sight of two familiar faces—my twin sister, Mackenzie Ryan, and our cousin-in-law, Special Agent Mackenzie Smith-Ryan. From their animated gestures and the serious tilt of their heads, I could surmise they were discussing something of weight. Knowing my sister, it’s likely about the injustice she faced, being expelled from her class due to her profession—a decision that reeks of bias and a lack of understanding.

As for me, I’m a steward of resources, a tactician who weighs the gravity of every situation. When a high-risk scenario unfolds, one that might call for the SWAESU’s intervention, I first send patrol cars to assess the situation. It’s a strategic move, ensuring that we don’t deploy the Special Weapons And Emergency Service Unit prematurely. The taxpayers’ money and our department’s resources are sacred trusts; I won’t squander them on false alarms or trivial matters. It’s this judicious approach that defines my leadership at the 9th Precinct—a balance of readiness and restraint, always aiming to serve the community with efficiency and fairness.

As I settled into my office chair, my phone rang. It was the Empire Police Commissioner, demanding I release the off-duty officer I had arrested. When I refused, he threatened to fire me on the spot. I stood my ground, reminding him that firing me would open the city and the police department to a lawsuit for retaliatory firing, which is illegal.

I then confronted him about the disparity in police response times. “Why is it,” I asked, “that when a crime happens in Eastside, Westside, or Anderson, officers and detectives often delay their response, pushing these cases to the bottom of their pile? This neglect fosters an ‘us versus them’ mentality among residents, who see the police in a negative light. Meanwhile, in middle-class neighborhoods like Emerald Pastors and Riverview, and rich areas like Highwood, the response is almost immediate. This inconsistency is unacceptable.”

I also pointed out to the Commissioner that in neighborhoods like Eastside, Westside, and Anderson, residents are often uncooperative with police investigations. They slam their doors on officers canvassing for information because they feel their concerns are not taken seriously. By the time detectives get to these cases, months or even years may have passed, rendering any evidence useless. Rain and storms can wash away DNA or fingerprints, and witnesses’ memories fade. Even if there are security cameras, footage is often deleted after thirty days unless specifically saved, and it’s unlikely that owners keep such tapes for long.

This neglect not only hampers investigations but also deepens the mistrust between the community and the police. If we want to change this, we need to treat every crime with urgency and respect, regardless of where it happens.

I also shared with the Commissioner that, being from Westside myself, I understand the community’s dynamics. When there’s a crime, I often go out of uniform and approach residents as a concerned citizen rather than an officer. This approach helps build trust and gather information more effectively.

The residents of Westside, Eastside, and Anderson may face economic challenges, but they are well-educated. They do not depend on bureaucracy or city hall because they know how to navigate the education system, the fire department, and law enforcement. They teach their children to value education, viewing knowledge as their greatest asset. This education empowers them, making politicians at city hall wary, as they comprehend the system and can effectively challenge it.

I reminded the Commissioner that these communities have a history of successfully opposing city hall. They do not require bureaucracy; they seek respect and fair treatment. The only civil services they trust are the Fire Department and the Sanitation Department. If we want to rebuild trust, we must recognize their strengths and collaborate with them, rather than against them.

I also pointed out to the Commissioner that most people are only somewhat friendly to the police; this friendliness is superficial and merely a strategy to keep the police from interfering in their lives.

After ending my phone call, I noticed my twin sister stepping back inside the precinct, her expression curious and slightly eager. Our cousin-in-law had already walked away, leaving us to catch up. I quickly approached my sister, intrigued to know what she and Mackenzie Smith-Ryan had discussed.

She shared that our cousin-in-law revealed her intention to contact Arcane University regarding a troubling incident. Professor Viper had expelled Mackenzie from class merely because of her job—a decision that struck our cousin-in-law as unjust and potentially illegal. According to her, such an action could easily become grounds for a lawsuit.

Arcane University, with its prestigious reputation, attracts hundreds of thousands of applicants each year, selecting only about twenty to thirty thousand. This exclusivity is what makes a scandal so dangerous for them. If the university were to face a lawsuit or a federal investigation, it could tarnish their image, leading prospective students to think twice before applying. Additionally, current students might feel compelled to transfer or drop out, concerned that their parents or family would hear about the university being embroiled in a federal probe because of one professor's controversial decision to expel a student for having a job that many people disapprove of. The potential fallout from such a situation could be immense, casting a shadow over the institution's esteemed reputation.

But Mackenzie told me that her fellow students are all annoying over-privileged twits who are mean to her for just being a cop. They were immediately hostile and paranoid about Mackenzie the moment they discovered that she's a cop, believing that she's infiltrating them. The final straw was when she arrested someone, and she was voted out. But Mackenzie told me how our cousin-in-law will tell the University to reverse what the professor did or face a federal microscope that won’t go away until about ten years after the earliest. And that no institution, government or not, wants to be under a federal microscope.

Even the Empire Police Department, a city government organization, has been put under a consent decree multiple times, with the most infamous one being from 1943-47 because a female sailor on leave was stopped by police and questioned. She happily showed them her identification, but the officers didn’t believe her and arrested her, which sparked a riot. The government and the media characterized the rioters as “Communist and Fascist sympathizers trying to undermine the war effort,” without considering their perspective. While the media and government had a point in claiming that the actions of the rioters hurt the war effort, it was the residents of the Eastside district who ended up suffering by hurting themselves. Many of them were classified as 4F by military doctors, meaning they were deemed unfit for military service. Others turned to the Mafia, which thrived during this time by falsifying documents to fraudulently discharge men from service during World War II or falsifying medical documents claiming that those men were unfit for one reason or another.

I even told Mackenzie that many of the higher-ups don’t actually want crime to end because successful arrests featured in the media make them appear as the "good guys." They enjoy the positive headlines that highlight individual units. However, Mackenzie pointed out that I am the only captain who doesn't strictly enforce minor laws. I believe these minor offenses are often not worth pursuing, as they can become tiresome to enforce. My officers are reluctant to spend time arguing with a shop owner who, for example, places fresh vegetables on the sidewalk in a way that still allows normal foot traffic to pass.

When looking at the crime statistics map, the 9th Precinct's response area appears to be splattered with color, indicating various incidents. However, the Major Crimes statistics appear almost non-existent—one might think there was an computer error. Despite being in a city like Empire, which has a population of 1.5 million people and a lot of potential for crime, the Eastside, Westside, and Uptown look nearly crime-free. This is largely because I, along with many others, strongly advocate for programs that help both youth and adults become model citizens, providing them with constructive outlets instead of leading them to waste their lives on crime.

Mackenzie told me that I was the only captain to reform the Empire Police Department's High-Speed Task Force. Many officers in that unit were known for not impounding illegally modified cars; instead, they would take them for themselves in ways that wouldn’t point back to them. Some found ways to profit from high-performance cars, portraying themselves as reasonable authority figures during the day while maintaining a double standard by exploiting their public image at night.

I am also the only captain, and officer in general, who doesn’t engage in every conflict that the government promotes. I believe in maintaining a balanced approach to the militarization of the police. While it provides better firepower to fight organized crime, the downside is that when the community starts treating officers like soldiers rather than protectors, it undermines the foundational role of policing. With militarization comes SWAT teams, tactical units, and similar forces.

Interestingly, the Empire Police Department had a Police Tactical Team in the 1950s. Their role was to respond to situations beyond the capabilities of regular beat officers, utilizing surplus World War II weapons and better training for crowd control. Initially, other cities and towns mocked Empire for its tactical unit, but eventually, many across Little Bird established their own teams for responding to civil disturbances. This led to a widespread renaming of these units to Special Weapons and Emergency Services Units or SWAESU, although their functions remained largely the same.

I mentioned that I was confident she would return to her class. When Mackenzie asked how I was so sure, I explained that I wasn't entirely certain, but I believed it was mainly because no institution enjoys having an outsider observe their operations closely. They dislike the idea of someone scrutinizing their practices, especially if it could lead to an investigation. And how her professor and former classmates are the type who believe they can just vote someone out because they don’t like them for one reason or another.

I also pointed out how Professor Viper and her former classmates tended to advocate for stricter laws. However, they often complain when those same laws are enforced or when the enforcement gets too harsh. It reminds me of the old saying, “You can't have your cake and eat it too.”

Ultimately, I believe she will return to her class because no one wants an outsider coming in to conduct an oversight, especially if that process could take years. They would have no choice but to either reinstate her or risk a lawsuit, face federal oversight, or possibly both. Most institutions are likely unwilling to take the chance of violating someone's educational rights. If a grand jury were involved, the situation wouldn't reflect well on them, as the jury would hear a narrative about a young woman being expelled from class and denied an education because of her profession. This story would prompt them to consider how they would feel if it were their own child facing denial of education due to their chosen occupation.

I even told Mackenzie about how I ran into Officer Grumpy, but I ended up putting him in lockup with his wife. I explained to Mackenzie that I don’t mind if Officer Grumpy gets the union involved. It’s not that I don’t care; it’s just that any sane person would see it as a cop doing her job. And if he does get a union representative to side with him, I’m simply laying out all the facts.

Of course, the Empire Police Department formed its union back in 1919 after the mass demobilization following World War I, during which a significant number of returning soldiers were reintegrating into civilian life. On Little Bird, about 50-70% of these returning soldiers went into careers within a paramilitary structure. However, they weren’t paid a living wage because the city was still operating within a war economy. Prices had risen to fund the war effort, and cities were slow to transition back to a civilian economy. As a result, civil servants were essentially paid pennies on the dollar.

This led to a strike demanding higher wages, which initially included waste collectors. Soon, they were joined by sewer workers, zookeepers, prison guards, road maintenance staff, recreation and parks workers, animal control workers, abandoned vehicle workers, and eventually firefighters. During the strike, trash piled up, and, particularly with reduced police enforcement, many trash heaps were set on fire. City jails also became sites of unrest. Consequently, the city had to agree to their demand for a pay increase.

It wasn’t until 1933 that the EPD struck again, this time demanding better radio communications. They received one-way radios that allowed them to receive calls from dispatch but not to respond. For that, they had to use a police call box to either contact their precinct or the dispatch office. It wasn’t until the post-World War II era that two-way radios were adopted for police use. Moreover, the police call box wasn’t a large structure; it was merely a small box with a phone inside, contrasting with the more substantial kiosks seen in some places. Officers had to use these boxes while exposed to the elements, and they were typically attached behind fire alarm pull boxes.

During the 1919 strike, police officers had a long list of grievances. They worked ten-hour shifts, often logging between 75 and 90 hours each week. Additionally, they were not compensated for time spent on court appearances. Officers objected to being required to perform tasks such as delivering unpaid tax bills, surveying rooming houses, taking the census, watching the polls during elections, checking the backgrounds of prospective jurors, and acting as “errand boys” for their superiors. Moreover, some officers complained about inadequate facilities, noting that precincts had only four toilets and one shower or bathtub available for 51 to 120 officers. Others expressed dissatisfaction with their equipment, as many were issued outdated single-action revolvers or low-powered double-action revolvers from the 1880s.

The 1919 and 1933 strikes were relatively peaceful compared to the 1981 Fire Department strike in the City of Empire. During this strike, many firefighters sought better wages, while others believed the city was slashing the fire department's budget to save money. Some firefighters resorted to arson as a protest. Their concerns were valid, as the Commonwealth of Mountain was proposing a bill to cut city and town budgets for public services by 50%. This proposal would have adversely affected numerous public services, including schools, libraries, and community centers, and resulted in further layoffs of police officers and firefighters.

The 1981 Fire Department strike was distinct because some individuals committed arson to demonstrate the urgency of their financial struggles. They voiced sentiments like, “The cashier at the grocery store and the bagger won’t wait until the city gives us our pay. Our landlords won't wait for us to get paid to cover our rent. The banks won’t wait for us to get paid to pay our mortgage.” They emphasized that the striking firefighters were trained professionals working 96 hours every other week, unlike volunteer firefighters, who have regular jobs and respond to emergencies when prompted by their pagers. Volunteer firefighters do not spend their time at the firehouse conducting drills and practicing, as they are compensated for their primary jobs instead.

Many people here have second jobs, either as a source of extra income or simply to stay out of the house longer. Most do it for the former reason because you never know when you might get laid off from one job. After all, we’re taught in home economics to set aside money for a rainy day and emergencies because life is unpredictable. Tomorrow isn’t certain; you could get a flat tire, a tree might fall on your house, or you may need to replace a part in your vehicle or hire someone to fix something for you.

As I walked through the precinct, I thought of my twin sister and my cousins, Derick and Sonata. Interestingly, I am the only one with an Irish name.

Derick has a German name derived from the Low Franconian form of Theodoric, which means "people-ruler" or "leader of the people."

Sonata is an Italian meaning “a piece of instrumental music, literally sounded.”

Mackenzie is Scottish for "the son of Kenneth." It was once a unisex name before it became more commonly associated with females, even though it can still be used for any gender.

As for my name, it's spelled Asyling, but it should actually be Aisling. This is due to a typo made by the doctor who filled out my birth certificate, and he didn’t ask how my name was correctly spelled. When I found out the correct spelling, I had already gotten used to writing the first three letters of my name as "Asy" instead of "Ais." Rather than changing it to the correct spelling, I continued using the version I’ve had since birth.

And Derick’s name is fitting because of him being the day shift leader of the 9th Precinct SWAEUS team.

Walking around the precinct, I couldn't help but think about how our dark blue uniforms appear more professional than the Island Patrol's short-sleeve light blue shirts. Stains are harder to see on darker clothing, while lighter colors show stains more easily, which I believe comes across as unprofessional.

In the EPD, as a captain, I've noticed that Sergeants, Captains, and Lieutenants wear short-sleeve gray uniforms, while the rank-and-file patrol officers wear dark blue. The Island Patrol officers, on the other hand, have the same uniforms as the patrol officers.

I then decided to visit the Homicide detectives to get an update on the “Bottlecap Killer.” The public dubbed the killer because the victims always had a bottlecap left behind as a calling card. Unfortunately, the detectives didn’t have any new leads. Everything was just there, but nothing new had surfaced. So I told them to go back out there and to go back over what they got because never know if they overlooked something.

To me, the militarization of police and the "tough on crime" rhetoric from politicians have not helped anyone. It has seriously damaged the public's trust in law enforcement. The war was lost years ago, even if no one wants to admit it. The prevalence of dirty and corrupt cops, along with lazy officers, makes it extremely difficult for honest cops to talk to civilians. No one trusts the police, and in courtrooms, it can take days just to seat 12 citizens on a jury because so many people believe they cannot trust the word of a police officer on the stand. There should be a lot of funding for other social programs and initiatives rather than throwing money at solutions that don’t work or make things worse.

In my opinion, many other programs truly deserve funding to assist people and support civil initiatives. Unfortunately, politicians often choose to allocate funds to projects that only worsen the situation. Purchasing the latest automatic rifles with silencers or body armor capable of stopping armor-piercing rounds will not win a war that was essentially lost before it even began.

The Riverview district has been approved for a million-dollar renovation project to update its community center. In contrast, districts like Westside lack community centers altogether. Unfortunately, politicians often treat Anderson, Eastside, and Westside as if they are plagued areas, leading to law enforcement applying the "broken windows" theory in these neighborhoods. As a result, officers in these districts tend to view residents as common criminals rather than hardworking individuals.

When I assumed leadership of the 9th Precinct, I shifted our focus to proactive policing, rejecting the idea of community-oriented policing. I believe that approach is largely a tactic to gain public trust in the event of a mishap. In my view, we have been losing this battle since it began in 1971, seven years before I was even born.

I’ve noticed that during my monthly meetings with senior officials at headquarters, they often question why my officers rarely make misdemeanor arrests or issue citations. I have to explain the situation: when analyzing our crime statistics, it appears there are almost no reports of serious crimes, leading them to believe it must be a computer error. Meanwhile, minor violations become numerous, creating a situation where small infractions are eventually overlooked.

But there’s no perfect way to determine which theory works best because each Precinct operates differently, with most of them operating on a community-oriented model. But to me, that doesn’t work because where I’m from, which is Westside, and the other district Eastside, people see through it. They’re not stupid. They know that many officers are the type who do their job, but they primarily get officers and detectives who are either lazy and don’t want to do their job or take too long to respond, allowing criminals to get away or leads to go cold. This leads to mistrust, so when they do investigate, they get the cold shoulder or meet a door slamming in their face. I can barely stand most of my fellow Captains and Lieutenants who generally hold me in low regard, but I hold them in low regard too because I see them as nothing but mobsters with badges.

When someone is pushed to the edge, they will do anything to survive. I recall a conversation I had with some officers at HQ about the stark differences in response times across districts. In Eastside, Westside, and Anderson, dispatchers often sound indifferent, telling officers not to bother with investigations unless they choose to. Meanwhile, in middle-class and affluent neighborhoods, dispatchers maintain a sense of urgency that compels officers to respond swiftly and forcefully to criminal activity. In contrast, the police response in poorer areas is virtually nonexistent. These officers expect respect from communities they seldom patrol, but the truth is that “respect is earned, not given.”

As I stepped away from the bustling streets and headed back to my office, a wave of contemplation washed over me. I was struck by the daunting reality of the mafia families that thrived in the City of Empire. It became painfully clear that a shocking three out of four had clawed their way to power through vicious betrayals of their own kin, ruthlessly eliminating anyone they perceived as a threat, whether real or imagined.

The shadows of the past loomed large in my mind, particularly the infamous Waterson-Falcon Mafia War that raged between 1968 and 1972. In those tumultuous years, I found it hard not to sympathize with the decision to militarize the police. During that war, the police officers faced an overwhelming arsenal— they were outgunned, and outmatched. Most of their weaponry was antiquated surplus from World War II, relying heavily on semiautomatic firearms that were far from adequate against the well-armed mafia.

Recognizing this dire situation, the police force undertook a significant transformation. Their old .38 revolvers were discarded in favor of more potent .45 semiautomatic pistols, while high-caliber revolvers, like the powerful .357 Magnum and .44 Magnum, replaced their outdated counterparts. The police also upgraded their rifles from .308 semiautomatic to advanced 5.56mm automatic rifles, granting them a fighting chance against organized crime. To further bolster their defenses, they were issued flak jackets, providing essential protection in a hostile environment that hung heavy with tension and danger.

As I sat in the bustling lobby, the chatter of conversations surrounded me, but one discussion caught my attention. My cousin Darick and his new recruit, Ms. Flurry, were engaged in an animated exchange about their shared vision for the community. Their words resonated with me; they believed in a proactive approach to making a difference.

It wasn’t disheartening to overhear some other officers lamenting their responsibilities, wishing they could divert resources from the department to areas they felt were more deserving. My heart ached at the thought of how many people could benefit from support that goes beyond medical assistance. Many individuals, especially students, desperately need dedicated tutors to help them navigate their schoolwork or positive role models who can guide them and provide essential resources.

Imagine a world where our civil initiatives received the funding they needed, or where schools were equipped with enough supplies to inspire learning. Consider the potential impact of creating safe spaces for people, where they could not only learn sports but also engage in meaningful activities that uplift the community. There is so much more we could do to empower our people and help them flourish in a supportive environment.

To be honest, I might have overstepped yesterday. I found myself standing before a group of reporters, brimming with passion, and I made bold promises of swift and fearful retribution. As an officer dedicated to my duty, I understand the importance of addressing every case; I don’t want a collection of random incidents piling up. The burden of unsolved crimes weighs heavily on our department, and I feel a deep responsibility to ensure that justice is served.

Back in the 1970s, there were many criminals in the city of Empire who belonged to organizations that had enough weapons to outfit an airborne company or a heavy weapons company in the military.

My father, who was a dedicated patrolman for thirty years, taught Mackenzie and me that we would spend our lives trapped in a demeaning, mind-numbingly repetitive, dead-end job with no prospects beyond our employment. He believed this was a good thing, as he spent his life obsessively conforming to outdated societal norms. His unsophisticated belief was that a stable job is all you need to achieve happiness and success.

For thirty years, he walked the beat, consistently turning down promotions to Sergeant, remaining a Corporal from 1967 until his on-duty death in 1994. He was content being a rank-and-file patrolman with no responsibilities beyond his eight-hour patrol. He got to know every street on his route, familiarized himself with the people he encountered, checked on closed stores and houses when the owners were away, de-escalated confrontations, reported road hazards to be fixed, spoke with kids to ensure their bikes were registered, making it easier to recover them if stolen, directed traffic, and gave directions to tourists.

Some of the people on our father’s route shared a story about a retail store that hired a new worker. He was older, well-groomed, well-educated, and drove a luxury car. When asked how he could afford such an expensive vehicle, he explained that he used to be a Senior Vice President at a major company but recently went through a divorce. His ex-wife demanded 75% of his income as part of the settlement, and he agreed to it. However, he then quit his high-paying job and took a low-paying one instead. As he put it, payday was always a joyful occasion for him because he knew how little his ex-wife was getting from his new salary.

Our father often told us, "People call this kind of work 'blue collar.' I don't care what color your shirt is; if you bring pride to your job, people will notice. And even if they don’t, you will."

He was the type of cop that others admired—a golden boy and a role model of clean-cut integrity. However, he never judged anyone. In a culture that often viewed fast-food jobs as suitable only for teenagers, he recognized the reality: adults, too, worked in these roles for various valid reasons. We must stop making assumptions about people's circumstances. Some might need extra income, while others may choose lower-paying jobs to spend more time with family rather than endure long hours in high-stress environments. It is essential to understand that we often don’t know what’s truly happening in someone’s life. Many people take on second jobs because they are struggling to pay bills, aiming to save for emergencies, or preparing for retirement. We need to acknowledge these realities and approach others with empathy, not judgment.

To be honest, I believe that many jobs are dead ends. Often, people reach a certain position and cannot advance further for various reasons. For instance, some employers prefer to hire inexperienced relatives for positions rather than promote qualified individuals, even if it means offering only a small pay increase. In our country, experience is highly valued, and it often outweighs other qualifications.

As a Captain in the Police Department, my experience as a logistical officer on the battleship Aurora Borealis was crucial in securing my position. I led several other logistical officers on that ship, which helped me gain the necessary qualifications to become a Captain.

In my case, experience truly does matter. You need to have a solid understanding of a job before you can perform it effectively. Simply claiming you can do something isn't enough; throwing someone into a role without the proper knowledge can lead to more harm than good.

This situation was especially prevalent before 1935 during the era of Little Bird, when many factories chose to hire recent high school graduates for managerial positions without relevant experience. Factory owners often avoided promoting experienced workers because doing so would require a small pay raise—typically just a 10-cent increase. As a result, they preferred to employ inexperienced individuals in supervisory roles, allowing them to oversee seasoned workers who knew the job inside and out.

Upon reflection, it’s clear to me how the city could potentially save a significant amount of money. A number of city services are divided among multiple departments that seem to tackle the same challenges. Take the Police Department, for instance: it encompasses both Vice and Narcotics divisions, each addressing issues related to illegal drugs and organized crime, yet they overlap considerably in their missions. Likewise, the Traffic and Highway Patrol units are both focused on ensuring road safety and enforcing traffic laws, making their roles somewhat redundant. It appears that the city tends to waste taxpayer dollars at an alarming rate, outpacing the contributions from residents. This inefficiency in departmental organization raises questions about fiscal responsibility and resource allocation in our community.

When looking at other cities here on Little Bird, it's evident that many have either kept their police departments separate or merged them together. For example, in the 1960s, the Little Bird Capital saw the Chocolate Police Department consolidate various units, such as Bunco-Burglary and Traffic-Patrol. At that time, many residents were simply calling to get the new number for the specific department they needed. However, the reorganization ultimately proved to be more effective. It allowed officers in the patrol traffic unit to not only enforce traffic rules but also to patrol neighborhoods and respond to crimes instead of either or. And to me that’s a better way than just having two units that do the same but in different names.

I have a feeling that my dad would be proud of me because though not in a way of a father being proud of his daughter but proud of me of more or less reforming the precinct in a welcoming way and do it in a way to restore public faith in the police because back in the 80s and 90s here in the city of Empire many people their relationship with the police was it's only superficial and just a way to get the cops to leave them alone. But at the same time the City and the Police Department more or less abhor the 9th Precinct for whatever reason because the 9th Precinct is about half the size of the Borough of Manhattan and don’t have enough officers to patrol the entire precinct response area and how many of my officers have to ride alone to cover many areas while others cover them on foot and I teach my officers to have a cool head of to keep things calm and to de-escalate things because many officers have their cops try to escalate things so they can arrest someone and try to break up confrontations and get both sides of the story and that to me when something starts I don’t send in a bunch of cops to break it up but I rather let them deal with it because in my experience just sending in a bunch of officers with baton drawn and in riot gear will just anger them and make it worse and that’s why in the 50s the Empire Police Department created Police Tactical Teams that could come in and handle situations that the average officer couldn’t handle like civil disturbances. And how in other precincts those Captains or Lieutenants have their officers just show up in force and use force to escalate things while I prefer to keep my officers on patrol and just not show up in force because not in the mood of escalate a situation that could’ve been prevented and only time to use a show of force is to protect other civil servants like sending uniformed officers to go along with the fire department to protect them from being attacked because they won’t go into an area without police protection.

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________________

(Derick Ryan POV)

While still in the Ninth Precinct, I said, "Yeah, I believe there are better ways to spend taxpayer money than on solutions that don’t work. Do I think putting more officers on the streets will help? Sure, but it’s not enough. Just doing a psych evaluation to make sure recruits aren’t psychopaths isn’t going to cut it.

We can’t just give them a psych test, put them through 240 hours of training—eight hours a day for thirty days—and then say, ‘Congratulations, you’re an officer in the Police Department. Report to your assigned precinct.’ That’s not how we build a competent and trustworthy police force.

We need comprehensive training that goes beyond the basics. Recruits need to understand the communities they’ll be serving, learn de-escalation techniques, and be trained in cultural sensitivity. They need to be prepared for the realities of the job, not just the textbook scenarios.

Throwing more officers onto the streets with minimal proper training and support is like putting a band-aid on a bullet wound. It might look like we’re doing something, but it’s not addressing the root of the problem. We need to invest in long-term solutions that build trust and cooperation between the police and the communities they serve."

Flurry replied, “Yeah, well, I had neighbors from my youth who would forge their eldest child's signature to sell their place for their youngest or middle child for college or something. The yelling got so bad that the cops were called multiple times. The officers that responded looked like they didn’t want to be there. They only intervened when it started to get heated or if it seemed like one party was about to attack the other. During those arguments, the one who had their name forged always yelled that they would be hearing from their lawyer and taking legal action against their family.”

“Well, forgery is a white-collar crime and is more inclined to be investigated by the EOD here, but they should’ve arrested the parents on the grounds of fraud at the request of the party that had their name forged,” I said. “But I guess those officers thought being a cop would be like an 80s action film—sliding across the hood of a car, shootouts every ten minutes, and so on.”

Flurry nodded, “Yeah, it’s like they signed up for the wrong reasons. They didn’t realize that real police work involves a lot of paperwork, community interaction, and dealing with situations that aren’t always black and white. It’s not all high-speed chases and dramatic arrests.”

“Exactly,” I agreed. “And that’s why proper training and realistic expectations are so important. We need officers who are prepared for the realities of the job, not just the Hollywood version of it. It’s about serving and protecting the community, not just playing the hero.”

I even told Flurry about where I come from and how my father always talked about how police work is often tedious. Arresting just one person means at least an hour or two of booking them and filling out the required paperwork. Much of how police are depicted in fiction, with exciting car chases and car-to-car shootouts, is... not entirely realistic. Let's face it, reality can be boring. And boring doesn't sell movie tickets or keep people glued to their screens.

I shared a story about my dad from the early 80s. He went on a patrol and had nothing on his beat. The only action he had was when he was getting lunch, and part of his burger fell, leaving a small grease, ketchup, and mustard stain on his uniform. It was hardly noticeable because of the dark blue color.

Flurry nodded and said that as a cop, she never had to do a patrol because she has a condition where brightness hurts her eyes. So, she worked night shifts, just doing paperwork. She was more or less a glorified secretary at night, but doing it at night meant it got done faster due to fewer people around and no civilians in the lobby at the front desks.

She mentioned how the quiet of the night shift allowed her to focus and get through the paperwork efficiently. It was a different kind of police work, but it was just as important. Keeping the administrative side of things running smoothly is crucial for the overall functioning of the precinct.

I agreed, adding that every role in the police department is vital. Whether you're on the streets or behind a desk, you're contributing to the safety and order of the community. It's not always glamorous, but it's necessary work.

I even told Flurry that as a SWAESU Operative, the Use of Deadly Force regulations are a key part of the job. We cannot use lethal force against a suspect without first giving them a chance to surrender, or against a suspect who is not directly threatening you or a civilian with a weapon. We’re trained to handcuff and report all suspects and civilians, subdue suspects with non-lethal methods, and bring them in alive unless they're openly hostile. We also confiscate all firearms and other evidence.

I mentioned to Flurry that I’m on the fence about certain things, like the militarization of the police. I’m like my cousin Asyling in that regard. On one side, getting better armor and weapons to fight crime is a pro. But the con is that when you have people who are sworn to protect carrying military-grade weapons and dressed in military-type uniforms, it feels more like an occupation than a civilian government agency patrolling the streets. It makes 80% of the officers feel more aggressive and assertive, while a vast majority of the public are scared. While some people won't question big cities getting better gear to protect their respective cities, they do question whether it's really necessary for a small-town police department in the middle of nowhere, or a small campus or public transit police department, to be packing assault rifles and vehicles designed to survive a direct impact from an RPG and landmines.

Before Flurry could say anything, I continued. Back when my uncle and father got on the job in the 1960s, if there was a situation where the cops needed extra firepower, they would radio their supervisor or a Captain or Lieutenant from their precinct to come out and request automatic weapons. When automatic weapons were approved, they could either use them or wait for a Tactical Team to show up with the Little Birden version of the Thompson and BAR. But now, with certified officers, they can replace a shotgun with an automatic rifle in their squad car. To me, that’s a double-edged sword because, yeah, a rifle is great for range but not so well for close quarters.

I even told Flurry that when my great-grandparents were cops back in the 1880s to their retirement in the 1910s, the Empire Police Department operated differently. They mostly relied on civilians to do their jobs because many cops didn’t have guns. They just put up wanted posters and had people become bounty hunters. It wasn’t until the 1920s that many cops used their money to buy a pistol, and it wasn’t until the 1920s that it was standardized to get a standard issue weapon, which was nothing but .38 revolvers because it was the cheapest for departments to buy but had more stopping power than a .32 revolver. It wasn’t until the 1920s that the EPD started buying bolt-action rifles and submachine guns. Unlike how movies would depict it, the cops on Little Bird didn’t have the Little Birden version of the M1A1 Thompsons and M1 Garand rifles seen in the hands of police officers and prison guards in 1942-45. While not strictly impossible, it is highly unlikely these weapons would be supplied in large quantities to law enforcement and corrections officers during the war, as they were still being issued to troops fighting overseas. It wasn’t until the 1950s that the EPD created a Tactical Team to respond citywide to enter areas too dangerous for normal patrol officers to enter.

Flurry said, "It does work for some situations, like when the president, a high-ranking government official, or a foreign dignitary comes for a diplomatic mission. They need to make sure the route is clear and have the means to fight against any threats. In those cases, I agree. But for everyday policing, it's a different story."

I nodded. "When I was a beat cop, most of the crimes I dealt with were misdemeanors like pickpocketing and shoplifting. I hardly ever fired my sidearm. Internal affairs would come in anytime you had to use a firearm, even if the mission was a success. They review if the shot was justified. If it was, you get reinstated and commended. If it wasn’t, you get arrested, ending your career in the PD.

But as SWAESU, we’re sent into situations where deadly force is authorized and justified. It’s a different ball game."

Flurry mentioned that she never fired her sidearm in the line of duty, except during training and requalification. "I’ve had to fire my weapon four times for requalification, but while on duty, the answer is no."

I nodded, understanding her perspective. "It’s a different experience for everyone. But the key is to be prepared and trained for any situation, whether it’s a high-stakes operation or a routine patrol."

Flurry then asked me about my dad. I told her he was born at a time when plywood was expensive and used almost exclusively for boats and furniture. Simple boards were more practical for housing construction. Plywood production has improved since then, making it cheaper and more common today. My dad was a nice guy with a unique culinary style. He loved cheeseburgers like cheeseburgers covered in macaroni and cheese and would try any type of cheese on a burger, even the kind that smells like rotten feet.

Flurry laughed and said he sounded like a Turophile, a cheese enthusiast. I mentioned that my father worked in a creamery as a teenager before becoming a cop after high school. He liked the job before his line-of-duty death.

In this world, nothing really surprises me anymore. Many people don’t believe in anything anymore.

I didn’t say that he was a crooked cop because only I found out and only Asyling and I know that but everybody else thinks my dad was a straight as an arrow cop. And that Asyling and I will keep it like that.

“How do you feel about the PD having the ability to arrest active duty soldiers on the streets?” Flurry asked.

I replied, “We can arrest and detain soldiers without the presence of military police. Out on the streets of the civilian world, military police and other military law enforcement don’t have jurisdiction unless their unit is deployed domestically. Military police have jurisdiction over their area where their unit is stationed. Local, state, national, and federal police have varying response areas. The only ones with jurisdiction on military bases are military police, federal agents, and the Marines and Navy versions of military police. If a soldier, active duty or not, is out on the streets of a city or town, they have to follow the law just like anyone else. Military police have the authority to arrest and detain soldiers on a military base, but outside of that, it’s our responsibility.”

Flurry nodded thoughtfully. “That makes sense. It’s important to have clear boundaries and understand who has authority where.”

I said. “It’s all about maintaining order and ensuring that everyone, regardless of their status, is held accountable to the same laws. It’s a complex system, but it’s necessary to keep things running smoothly.”

Flurry then asked, “Have you ever had to arrest a soldier?”

I thought for a moment. “Yes, a few times. It’s always a situation. Well they were sailors though. You have to handle it with care and respect, knowing that they’re serving our country. But at the end of the day, the law is the law, and everyone has to abide by it.”

She nodded again, understanding the gravity of the situation. “It must be tough, respect for their service with the need to enforce the law.”

“It is,” I agreed. “But it’s part of the job. We’re here to serve and protect everyone, and that means upholding the law fairly and consistently.”

I even told Flurry that I’ve encountered officers who don’t enforce some laws because they don’t know them well, like the Good Samaritan laws. I once went to a car accident where a Navy Hospital Corpsman was detained by police for saving the lives of two passengers in a hit-and-run crash. Naturally, the charges against the Corpsman were thrown out for obvious reasons.

I shared with Flurry how my great-grandparents would’ve disapproved of how we’re doing the job today. Back when they were cops, only a select few had guns, and some had lever-action rifles. Officers with weapons were rare, and they retired before standard-issue pistols became common. They were more or less forced into retirement due to tuberculosis, which was a death sentence back then because treatment didn’t come until 1921 and that Little Bird is a country with the country of Little Bird being tropical so the weather is Humidity and wet conditions are also extreme risk factors for tuberculosis. If they were alive today, they would disapprove of the department getting an anti-material rifle designed in the prelude to World War II and later revised in the 50s. These rifles fire bullets meant to stop light vehicles and other targets like landmines, parked aircraft, telecommunication masts, power lines, missile sites, radar installations, refineries, satellite dishes, gun emplacements, and bunkers.

I explained that many people the EPD were against back in the old west were outlaws and ordinary citizens brainwashed into believing that following an anarchistic lifestyle, running from the law, and planning political disturbances was the way to go, all for the sake of getting better jobs.

Flurry asked me about certain crimes, and I replied, “Our job is to enforce the law.” She said our job is to uphold the law, and I agreed, adding, “Yeah, we do, but your job is to enforce it and keep it manageable.”

When Flurry asked about vices, I explained that’s the job for the Vice Squad. “Our job is to keep it manageable. Everybody wants a drink from time to time and wants to let loose occasionally. And how people will always get what they want. Look at what many Americans did during Prohibition when the government said that the people cannot sell, make nor transport alcohol and the people responded by making homemade alcohol and drinking it or going to speakeasies even cops,”

I then asked Flurry how the special glasses I got her were working out. She said they were great because her eyes are sensitive to bright lights. Without them, she’d be either blinded by bright light or stuck in complete darkness. That sensitivity is why she worked night shifts as a regular cop. When she applied to SWAESU, she thought her disability would get her rejected, but she was accepted.

Flurry mentioned that many of the crimes she saw in files were white-collar crimes. For example, someone might get into an accident and temporarily go blind, and their fiancé or fiancée would secretly plan to marry them just to get the insurance payout. In the Commonwealth of Mountain, if couples don’t sign a prenup, divorced couples split everything 50/50. So, the fiancé or fiancée would marry the person, get the insurance payout, then divorce them to get half of the insurance money. Some insurance companies have clauses to prevent this, stating that couples who marry after the payout are excluded from it.

In those reports, officers advised people to check their bank statements regularly. In such situations, the other party might withdraw small amounts here and there, which often goes unnoticed, unlike large withdrawals. Flurry, being good with filing and administrative tasks, had seen a lot of these reports in her few years on the force.

Flurry mentioned that at the Fifteenth Precinct, where she was originally stationed, many of the crimes were white-collar offenses or involved "nutcases." The district of Riverview mostly had senior citizens and off-campus college students. So, it was either daredevil college students or people scamming senior citizens. The latter was more common because some people feel entitled to others' hard-earned money. It's tough for cops because these cases fall under Bunco detectives, not uniformed officers. Now, Flurry understands why white-collar crimes get investigated by the EOD—they have the manpower and resources.

I told Flurry that, according to my wife Mackenzie Smith-Ryan, violent crimes in the Country of Little Bird have been decreasing since '98, while white-collar crimes have been rising. Many of these crimes cross Commonwealth lines, making them federal offenses. The EOD gets involved because any crime that crosses into another Commonwealth is a federal matter.

I also shared a story about my uncle, who was a cop and operated those big armored machines. His first time, he mowed down three mailboxes in a row during an urban simulation to get officers used to high-stress urban environments. It wasn’t real, but he did hit one of those boxy apartment mailboxes. He was trying to do a three-point turn on a two-lane street, not an open field, so it was understandable. The EOD investigated him, but they cut him loose because it was an accident.

Flurry nodded, understanding the complexities and challenges of police work. "It’s a tough job, but someone’s got to do it," she said.

I told Flurry that my uncle was driving that machine during a time when law enforcement started to face radicals and people with nothing to lose, often dealing with barricaded suspects armed with automatic weapons. They needed vehicles with battering rams to break open doors from a distance, keeping officers safe. Back in the late 1940s, many violent crimes involved men who snapped after years of fighting, often over trivial matters. Officers would sometimes get shot trying to enter through the front door because many of these men were war vets used to daily killing, and society expected them to reintegrate as if nothing had happened.

During that time, many Little Bird Naval Cargo ships were robbed for military surplus, which was then sold on the streets. Those who robbed the ships were determined to ensure their fellow GIs didn't return to poverty or obscurity. WWII was unique in history because its veterans received more effort and rewards than any other conflict. Many officers back then were called "Untersturmführer" due to the Red Scare and the end of the deadliest war in human history. This nickname stuck because many officers were German in a job predominantly filled with Irishmen, with the top three national backgrounds being Irish, German, and Austrian.

In the 1950s, the EPD created a tactical team to respond to these situations. The 50s on Little Bird were marked by increased tensions, with police responding to at least ten fistfights every night. The streets in cities were becoming more dangerous, and other cities mocked Empire for having an elite unit of 100 officers who received advanced military training. The EPD bought surplus military body armor, combat helmets, and semi-automatic and automatic weapons. Other cities mocked Empire because the EPD anticipated needing officers trained to fight heavily armed criminals and handle civil disobedience and political disturbances, the latter being renamed in the early 90s.

In the past, there were only two types of cars: a patrol car and a supervisor car. It wasn’t until the 90s that they added Patrol, Cruiser, Interceptor, and Supervisor vehicles.

Flurry listened intently, understanding the evolution and challenges of law enforcement. "It's fascinating how much has changed and how much has stayed the same," she said.

"Absolutely," I agreed. "The tools and tactics may evolve, but the core mission of serving and protecting the community remains constant."

Flurry asked for my two cents on how people perceive us. I told her it varies from person to person, but where Sonata, Mackenzie, Asyling, and I are from, people tend to dislike the police due to very slow response times. In my opinion, many people don’t like us because they encounter officers who interact with them in a way that shows they don’t care or are just trying to spite others. Where we’re from, they respect the badge but not the person behind it.

Back in the 70s, most people on the job had a mustache, and beards were only allowed for religious reasons until they loosened that regulation in 2000. I told Flurry it varies from district to district, but where my sister, cousins Mackenzie and Asyling, and I are from, there’s generally a lot of hate due to a lack of patrolling. The dispatcher reports a crime in a way that sounds bored, telling officers to respond if they want to, but the tone suggests they shouldn’t. In middle-class or rich districts, they would mobilize half a precinct for a pickpocket or send a Special Weapons and Emergency Service Unit after a shoplifter.

I even told Flurry that when I was on the job as a beat officer that I didn’t change out of uniform until I got home but many people in my home district gave me a look of distrust but once I was out of uniform it was another story.

I told Flurry that the City of Empire from 1947-1997 was a city full of vices. The EPD was hypocritical, often dismantling a beat officer's accomplishments over a simple transgression. It was frustrating when superiors chastised them, even though those same superiors were involved in much shadier affairs like murder and drugs. They made an example of the lowest-ranking officers to keep their own dirty laundry from being aired.

When my grandparents were on the beat, officers didn’t talk much about crime. Instead, they discussed 3-D films, saying they would scare people out of theaters, or how television would never be popular because it cost as much as a new car. People would save up and buy a car instead, not getting a TV until the mid or late 1950s. Administrative Vice detectives back then dressed like movie stars at a premiere or award show and drove customized convertibles that weren’t police issue.

I told Flurry that cops back then weren’t entirely friendly. When arriving at a scene, the first thing they said was, “Okay, stand further back or move along. It’s your choice, but make it quick,” in a tone that meant they weren’t afraid to force you to move. Many officers were veterans of the Second World War, and the supervisors, captains, lieutenants, and many others at HQ were veterans of the First World War.

Flurry listened, intrigued by the history and the changes over the decades. "It’s amazing how much the culture and practices have evolved," she said.

I agreed. "Every era has its challenges and its way of doing things. Understanding the past helps us appreciate the progress we’ve made and the work we still need to do."

I even told Flurry that when my great-grandparents were on the job, they mostly relied on bounty hunters to do their work. The cops would say, “We are an urban police force, and many of the bounties are raiders and a rural nuisance.” They weren’t wrong because many criminals in the City of Empire would flee the city, knowing they couldn’t be pursued once they crossed the city limits. Even with the telegraph, it took hours for the nearest town to get the message, and by then, the criminals could be long gone. Police departments had to rely on bounty hunters because the Island Patrol wasn’t established until the 1920s, and the National Police didn’t come into existence until the 1930s. Once the automobile, automatic weapons, and later the establishment of the Island Patrol and National Police came into play, those boundaries more or less disappeared. The Island Patrol and National Police could patrol between towns and cities, closing the gaps criminals used to exploit.

I told Flurry how we come from different backgrounds. I grew up in a low-income neighborhood with ongoing problems and limited opportunities. Westside doesn’t have a community center or a youth center, leaving us with few choices. We’re victims of the system, which eats away at everything. Growing up below the national middle-class average, we faced challenges from labor unions, city politics, the media, education, law enforcement, and every government institution that loves to mess with people who don’t fit their mold.

Flurry said that for decades, many higher-ups prioritized numbers and statistics over the actual job, steering away from their duties due to greater powers at hand. They manipulated numbers to make the safest districts look high in crime or made low-income districts appear so dangerous that patrol officers wouldn’t ride through them. The district Flurry was originally from, Riverview, is the type of place where people can go out, have fun, and leave their doors unlocked at night.

I told Flurry that in reality, the EPD is dysfunctional and unwieldy. Decades of political obsession with producing good statistics have resulted in a department more concerned with massaging arrest figures. Community relations can best be described as "abysmal." The department has become useless as a crime-fighting force due to its leadership's overreliance and manipulation of the numbers game. Toxic office politics frequently become an obstacle for personnel who are at least trying to do real police work.

Mackenzie walked by, mumbling to herself as she headed back out on patrol. I knew why—she hated that Sunday radio program. The host, a wealthy socialite, always preached about family values and the Southern culture of Little Bird, with its unique customs, dialects, arts, literature, cuisine, dance, and music. But what really got under her skin was his comic book series. In it, a supernatural wedding ring brainwashes the wearers into acting like the perfect 1950s spouse, embodying the nuclear family ideal.

Flurry asked what was wrong with that, referring to the family values and cultural aspects. But I knew it was the comic book that bothered Mackenzie. Little Bird, considered progressive and liberal in the 1930s, needed more soldiers and tax payers. Census data from 1930 and 1935 showed women outnumbered men 2:1 among able-bodied adults. The government, driven by tax revenue needs, allowed women more rights, besides voting and serving in the militia because that goes back to 1703. By 1936, women were joining the workforce in roles beyond medical, nursing, or administrative positions. The first motorcycle unit created by the EPD was entirely female, to the changing times.

I even told Flurry about Asyling and Mackenzie’s parents, who were the opposite of family values. Their father, my and Sonata’s uncle, was a hardworking, straight-arrow cop, but his wife was the type who never took responsibility for anything. When Sonata convinced Asyling to help their mother, she allowed her to stay in her apartment until she got back on her feet. Unfortunately, their mother pawned and sold off a lot of Asyling’s belongings. Luckily, Asyling had serial numbers for most of her items and was able to recover a lot of them. Pawn shops are required by law to notify law enforcement if they suspect something is stolen, but many don’t.

Asyling managed to get most of her stuff back, but she was heartbroken over a locket heirloom from our grandmother, which had been in our family since the dawn of the 20th century. It hasn’t been seen in months, and every pawn shop denies having it. Even with laws forcing pawn shops to report suspected stolen items, many don’t because they prefer to sell them for quick money. Back in the 1950s, anything made of gold, like rings, was supposed to be reported to the police because people burglarized houses for gold items. Many pawn shops didn’t report these items because they wanted to sell them for profit.

Flurry then told me that during her SWAESU training, she failed a solo run of clearing a building. She followed protocol to the letter but still didn’t pass.

I stopped dead in my tracks and said, “It’s not about protocol. It’s about this, this, this, and these.” With the first "this," I pointed at my head, the second "this" at my sidearm, the third "this" at my gut, and "these" at my eyes. “It’s about 360-degree awareness, trusting your gut, and having situational awareness. It’s a Kobayashi Maru, a Catch-22 if you will. It’s designed so you lose. It’s a lose-lose situation; no matter what choice you make, you’re not gonna win.”

Flurry replied, “That’s cheating.”

“It’s supposed to build character,” I said. “All I’m saying is that you shouldn’t feel bad about this, okay? Nobody passes that part of the training. Even if you were a robot, you wouldn’t win.”

Flurry asked, “How is it supposed to build character?”

“It reinforces the idea that one mistake can and will be your last. From not clearing a room properly, only seeing one suspect and missing another hiding in the corner waiting to get you. It’s made to make you lose. Even if you run the same scenario a thousand times, you won’t win. Not even the men who designed it back in 1965 could pass it. If the people who designed it can’t pass, then you can’t either. It’s meant to teach you that choices have consequences and that we get called into dangerous situations that are even dangerous for us,” I explained.

Flurry nodded, absorbing the lesson. “I guess it makes sense. It’s about preparing us for the worst-case scenarios.”

I even told Flurry that we’re trained, equipped, and deployed to resolve "high-risk situations" that regular police units aren’t trained or equipped to handle, such as shootouts, standoffs, raids, hostage-takings, crisis negotiation, de-escalation, and riot control.

Flurry told me I didn’t have to tell her what she already knew. Then she asked if I had a role model who encouraged me to become a SWAESU officer. I told her no and shared that my sister Sonata learned the hard way to never meet your heroes because sometimes our heroes aren’t who we expect them to be. People tend to idealize their idols and have unrealistic expectations, which can lead to disappointment.

I did say that I used to admire my father, but that was a long time ago. Many kids admire their parents.

“Hit me with a random police case,” Flurry asked.

I replied, “July, 1974.”

“Homicide, Police Commissioner Lawrence Virginia,Shot in the heart with his own harpoon gun,” Flurry said.

“Ah, very good. August 1969,” I challenged.

“Mass arrest and conviction of Ad Vice detectives,” Flurry responded.

I nodded, impressed. “You’ve got a good memory for these cases.”

Flurry smiled. “It’s part of the job, right? Knowing our history helps us understand the present and prepare for the future.”

“Alright, here’s one,” I said, “July 1954.”

Flurry replied, “A fashion model found dead from an overdose of sleeping medicine. She used her beauty to manipulate various men, focusing on those with the most money while stringing others along. According to detectives, the maid said she could act nice one moment and scream in your face the next.”

“May 1947,” I said.

Flurry replied, “A fading B-Movie actress initially painted as a poor innocent victim, but later revealed to be a petty, blackmailing sellout. She blackmailed several movie directors for roles in movies.”

I nodded, impressed by her knowledge. “You’ve got a knack for this, Flurry. It’s important to remember these cases, not just for the history, but for the lessons they teach us.”

Flurry replied, “Give me a hard one.”

“December 1936,” I said.

Flurry thought for a moment. “That’s a tough one because of several cases. On Christmas Day, there was a slight increase in burglaries as many houses and apartments were empty with families visiting relatives. On New Year’s Eve, some people messing around with fireworks ended up burning down an apartment building.”

“Ah, very good,” I said. “July 1999.”

Flurry replied, “City-wide blackout. At the time, nobody knew if it was human error, computer error, an act of terror, or a hacker. Many people questioned if it was a coincidence that it happened during the hottest month of the year. Others didn’t believe it was a coincidence that it happened in July, the hottest month besides August.”

I nodded, impressed. “You’ve got a sharp memory, Flurry. It’s important to remember these events, not just for the history, but for the lessons they teach us.”

Flurry then asked about my cousin Asyling. I told her that Asyling is a workaholic, coming in early and staying late. She goes over every case file with a fine-tooth comb because she won’t send any cases to the DA’s office without concrete evidence. Asyling is the type of cop who wants to change the system from the inside. Many other captains and lieutenants will gladly send cases to the DA’s office even with evidence that an inexperienced defense lawyer could tear apart like water through a leaky roof. Asyling won’t send any cases up without solid evidence because she believes many people in prison should’ve been let off on a technicality or shouldn’t be there due to circumstantial evidence that should’ve been dismissed.

I told Flurry that I agree with my cousin about changing things from the inside. Many people who’ve been arrested should’ve been released or not thrown away just to boost an ADA’s win-loss ratio. The PD would quietly let people off on a technicality to avoid further embarrassment.

Flurry said what my cousin is doing is smart, putting people behind bars who deserve to be there. Then she asked how the job was when my dad, uncle, and other family members were on the force. Back then, they didn’t have computers in their cars. If they needed information, they had to call up the PD Research and Investigation (R&I). Detectives and beat officers could get any information, but R&I had business hours and couldn’t be rung up at 2:30 AM. It often took hours or days to get back to you, even in the 1980s. They could find answers to questions about names, addresses, or histories, no matter how obscure, but they had to ask for spelling because many names, businesses, and street names are hard to spell. The PD had its own R&I unit before computers.

After 5 PM, if you needed information, you were out of luck until 9 AM the following morning. Evening and graveyard shift cops and detectives had to wait sixteen hours until 9 AM the next day. Civilian employees of the PD had to sift through millions of alphabetized cards. When Asyling, Mackenzie, Sonata, and I got on the job in the mid-90s, computers started to slowly come into play. Detectives and later uniformed officers could get information anytime without needing to use a police call box to radio it in and wait hours or days for the information. Just looking up a bar address used to take hours or days.

Flurry then asked me which position in the Police Department I couldn’t do. I told her it would be Arson because investigating fires is almost impossible due to fire and water damage. Most of the time, it’s for insurance fraud, and the other 1% is either accidental or unsolvable. The Fire Department has its own Arson investigation unit that gets called out to investigate fires as well.

I shared with Flurry that on my beat, whether on foot or by car, I mostly dealt with family drama. The last one was a woman yelling at her daughter-in-law, calling her a bad wife for leaving to attend a family funeral. The mother-in-law came to surprise them and saw her son cooking. I told the woman that many men cook, either because of work or living solo, preferring to cook rather than buy TV dinners. The mother-in-law was off her rocker. Another family drama involved a happy couple where the guy’s mother kept inviting his ex-girlfriend to family events to prove he chose wrong. The first time it was public, but the second time, which neither I nor any family member attended, the ex and the mother-in-law threw hot coffee on the woman. A police report was filed for assault because it was freshly brewed hot coffee, which falls under the same crime as attacking someone with a bat.

I explained to Flurry why we didn’t go to the coffee shop incident. It was off our beat, and unlike TV or movies, the department doesn’t utilize just a handful of officers when they have almost three thousand. Why have three or four officers cover an entire city when you have three thousand?

Flurry then asked about my wife Mackenzie. I told her that Mackenzie doesn’t have a lot of things because her assignments require her to be ready to move fast and be away for weeks or months at a time. Her work deals with national uncertainty and federal crimes, so she has to be prepared for anything.

I even told Flurry that Asyling loves to test the officers under her command but won’t hesitate to chew them out when needed. For example, one beat officer took a taxi to a crime scene while on duty. Flurry laughed, saying it felt like something out of a 1998 French action-comedy film about a cabdriver teaming up with a police inspector to solve a series of robberies.

I reminded Flurry that this is reality, not a film. She acknowledged that but said she just wanted to mention it. I explained that unlike movies, car chases are a lot less glamorous. Many "tuned" vehicles can’t be driven like rally cars. People spend a lot of money to turn their cars into rally cars, only to make a turn and wreck them, losing all that money. The city has many mechanic shops that offer to tune up vehicles for more horsepower and speed. While not illegal per se, many people take these vehicles to street races and either wreck them or lose them in pink slip races because they’re not used to the increased speed.

It’s not illegal for people to modify their vehicles. Many people change tires, repaint their vehicles, and upgrade the engine’s horsepower. While some don’t like it, it would be unreasonable to make it illegal for people to get new tires or legally respray their vehicles. The most common colors for resprays are yellow and pink, among others.

Flurry then asked if my wife has to deal with politicians. I asked what kind of politicians she meant, from local ones to those in the capital. Mrs. Mackenzie Smith-Ryan always says the same thing: “They all sing the same tune when someone comes after them. They say they’re fine and used to threats, and they don’t take it seriously.” To me, these politicians should read the mission of the Elite Operations Detachment, which is to “protect the Little Birden people and uphold the Constitution of the country of Little Bird.” Their mission includes:

- Protecting the country of Little Bird from attacks

- Protecting Little Bird against foreign intelligence operations, espionage, and cyber operations

- Combating significant cybercriminal activity

- Combating public corruption at all levels

- Protecting civil rights

- Combating transnational criminal enterprises

- Combating major white-collar crime

- Combating significant violent crime

- Protection of National Security

Politicians don’t make it easier. They often ignore the threats until it’s too late or until someone close to them, like an aide or a family member, is affected.

I even told Flurry that many politicians my wife deals with are probably descendants of Attila the Hun. Just a joke, of course, but it feels that way sometimes. The city has districts, each run by an Alderman or Alderwoman. In the districts where Sonata, Mackenzie, Asyling, and I are from, the elected Aldermen make promises but never follow through because they’re more focused on advancing their political careers. It often takes a tragedy for them to act, fixing things only after avoidable disasters occur.

My wife also deals with foreign agents from time to time, and there’s often a language barrier. For example, "mate" means "friend" and “torch” means “flashlight” in British English. Sometimes, when foreign law enforcement comes here, there’s a translator involved due to transnational fugitive investigations or simply because of the language barrier. Not everyone speaks English, and not all officers or agents from other countries speak the same language.

But I told Flurry that I love my wife enough that if we’re dealing with a traffic case and the DMV tries to slow our progress in getting traffic cam footage, my wife can use her authority to make them give us access. Since the 90s, the PD has operated its own version of traffic cameras.

Flurry asked what the most intense thing I’ve ever been through as a cop was, either as a Patrol Officer or a SWAESU Officer. I told her it wasn’t a standoff or a shootout but talking someone down. The guy I talked down had been laid off from his job the day before his 27th birthday, then witnessed his father's death by a road rager on his birthday. I talked him down, saying that life is rough, but there’s always a light at the end of the tunnel and happier times ahead. I told him, “As a cop, I’ve seen more dead people than anyone you know. All of them gone too soon and none of them peaceful.” I explained that my job forces us to deal with the concept of death much more than the average person.

Flurry pointed out that I wasn’t a homicide detective, but I told her that when I started on the job, violent crimes were still high. Within one hour of an eight-hour shift, it was a 50/50 chance of encountering a violent crime or a violent crime requiring the use of deadly force. That was back in 1995 when violent crime started to go down.

Flurry nodded, understanding the intensity of the job. “It’s incredible how much you’ve experienced and how you’ve managed to handle it all.”

I said. “It’s not always about the action-packed moments. Sometimes, the most intense situations are the ones where you have to connect with someone on a human level and help them through their darkest times.”

Flurry agreed. “It’s those moments that really define what it means to be a police officer. It’s about making a difference, one person at a time.”

I replied. “Every day brings new challenges, but it’s those moments of connection and understanding that make it all worth it.”

I asked Flurry if she had completed her course on psychological and crisis negotiation. She politely declined, saying she hadn’t. I reassured her not to worry because the department has specialists for negotiation. Given her lightweight, I designated her as a “Scout.” In the Empire Police Department, “Scouts” are officers who are light enough to move quickly and report back to the command post about what’s going on. I explained that negotiation is tough because it involves active listening, empathy, building rapport, influencing, and behavioral change.

I told her that some negotiators are the “My way” type, who want things to go their way without considering the dangers. The “Doormat” negotiators let the person give them demands and give in without asking for something in return. I consider myself an “In-between” negotiator, giving people their demands but requiring something in return. For example, if criminals want a getaway car, I’d ask them to release a hostage in exchange. The “My way” types would refuse the getaway car, while the doormat ones would give in without making demands. The “My way” negotiators often play with people’s lives to boost their egos, which I believe is wrong.

I explained that flashbangs aren’t like in TV and movies; they can harm people if they detonate next to someone. They’re not completely harmless as the media portrays. The first thing a SWAESU Commander wants is the building layout and other entrances to get the drop on the suspects. They avoid using flashbangs and gas in close spaces because flashbangs can harm others, and overusing tear gas in small spaces can cause lasting medical complications.

Flurry said that’s what they’re trained and taught in training—not to use them in enclosed spaces because they can harm others. She emphasized that even as civil servants, our mission is to protect people, including the lives of criminals.

I nodded, appreciating her understanding. “Exactly. It’s about finding the balance between resolving the situation and ensuring everyone’s safety, including the suspects. It’s a tough job, but it’s what we signed up for.”

Flurry agreed. “It’s all about making the right decisions in the heat of the moment and always keeping the bigger picture in mind.”

“Absolutely,” I said. “Every situation is unique, and we have to be prepared to adapt and respond accordingly. It’s what makes our job challenging and rewarding.”

Flurry said that her first mission as a SWAESU operator involved hitting a safehouse for radical criminals planning attacks. We hit the place without warning and neutralized the threats instead of making arrests. I defended the command, explaining that we were told all of them were considered armed and dangerous and were labeled to be put down. SWAESU Operatives are trained to give criminals a chance to surrender, but the criminals in that safehouse wouldn’t have gone down without a fight. If we had announced our presence, they would’ve fought back without a second thought, preferring to go down fighting rather than be taken alive. Even with flashbangs, tear gas, pepper spray, or tasers, they would’ve still gone down swinging. It’s very rare for us to get authorization that everyone inside the area of operation is considered hostile with no friendlies or unknowns. The last time that happened was back in 1969-1970.

Flurry understood why SWAESU Officers across Little Bird are trained by Little Birden Special Forces operators. These operators are trained in counterterrorism, hostage rescue, direct action, and special reconnaissance, often against high-value targets. SWAESU Operatives receive military training in counterterrorism and special reconnaissance. When we raided that house, we automatically picked targets and took them down because the radicals inside were labeled as those who wouldn’t go down without a fight. We had to hit them fast and with the element of surprise. All of them were considered armed and dangerous, and we were given the green light to use deadly force because we were dealing with fanatics equipped and intent on causing an explosion. This warranted full authorization of deadly force against any suspect in the area. We were called in because the EOD version of a SWAT Team was busy hitting other safehouses.

Flurry nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. “It’s intense, but it makes sense why we had to act the way we did.”

I said. “In those situations, it’s about neutralizing the threat quickly and efficiently to prevent any harm to innocent lives. It’s not an easy decision, but it’s necessary to ensure the safety of everyone involved.”

I even told Flurry about a mission where we entered a building, and the TVs were on, broadcasting a news report that SWAESU had just entered. The previous commander noticed and called TOC to get the reporter off the air. Shortly afterward, every TV started broadcasting static. I also told Flurry that in training, instructors said, “Hollywood Tactics: Yeah, just try it. It’ll get you killed.”

Flurry mentioned they’re taught three ways of dealing with locked doors:

1. Firing a Breaching Shotgun: Quick and safe for people on the other side, but doesn’t faze the suspects much.

2. Detonating a C2 Charge: A bit slower and functionally identical to throwing a flashbang without blinding officers, but can hurt or even kill anyone caught in the blast.

3. Using the Standard-Issue Multitool: Slowest but good for quiet entries.

She also explained that hostages have to be handcuffed because you never know who is a real hostage, and there’s always the possibility of Stockholm Syndrome. Civilians caught in the area are also handcuffed and react accordingly. Most will ask why or chew us out for cuffing them when they have nothing to do with the incident, but some will comply without complaint, sometimes citing that they know this as standard procedure due to having family in law enforcement. Cuffing everyone to sort it out after the threat is ended makes sense because you don’t know who is innocent, who might be criminals hiding in plain sight, or who is pretending to surrender.

Flurry nodded, understanding the necessity of these procedures. “It’s all about ensuring safety and control in a chaotic situation.”

I said. “Every step we take is to minimize risk and ensure that everyone, including the hostages and civilians, is safe. It’s not always easy, but it’s crucial for maintaining order and protecting lives.”

I then asked Flurry if she knew how the Police Department on Little Bird got the idea of a breaching shotgun. She said no, so I shared a historical fact. During World War II, many Little Birden Army Rangers who were shotgunners would breach houses and other buildings. A few rangers would throw a frag grenade through a window while the shotgunner used a semi-automatic shotgun with buckshot, slugs, incendiary buckshot, and explosive slugs to shoot the hinges or the lock. They mostly shot around the lock area to hit potential enemies on the other side. The grenades would flush the enemies out of cover and into the path of the shotgunner. Rangers were given additional grenades and had higher priority for shotguns and grenades because they were trained to assault trenches and enemy positions.

When Flurry asked if my wife goes out on field ops, I explained that she mostly runs operations from a tactical center unless she’s investigating. During raids, she’s likely in a tactical center, watching from both a drone thousands of feet in the air and a helmet cam live feed, giving orders on the fly. The drone costs our yearly salary of $5,500 ($34,189.19 USD in 2003) just to start up and send down the runway for takeoff. Keeping the drone up costs $38,500 ($239,324.32 USD in 2003) per hour.

I then took Flurry into a secure room and told her about the last time my wife was in a tactical center watching from a drone view. An EOD SWAT team raided a place where a courier was, and she gave orders to her men on the ground about when to engage, hide, take cover, not engage, and use buildings, foliage, and vehicles as cover. They were able to take the courier. Flurry said it sounded like a victory, taking a financier off the board, and noted how modern my wife’s tactic of being in a command center and giving orders on the fly was.

Flurry then asked more about Asyling and she asked if Asyling even goes home in which I told Flurry that Asyling owns a very nice apartment for a woman living on a cop's salary. Not only that Asyling own the apartment outright but she bought it back when he was still a trainee officert and thus was not making much money. It turns out that Asyling paid well below market price for the apartment since it was once the site of a gruesome triple homicide, after which nobody wanted to live there anymore. But now since eight years has passed that if Asyling wanted to sell her place she isn’t no longer legally required to inform potential buyers of its sordid history and thus could get full market value for it. But yes she does have a place to live even though she’s not always there due to she’s a workaholic. And she got the place for pennies on the dollar.

I even told Flurry that when my grandparents were on the job how some of the outlaws that they arrested how they told them how their day in age is dying out becuase around the time they were forced into retirement due to tuberculosis well many of the outlaws that they were talking how their way of life is coming to a end and around 1900 the Wild West did end because of the dawn of the automobile and civilization starting to expand out to claim unclaimed territory and industrialization

I even told Flurry that the city has a myriad of problems—political, educational, media-related, and economic. Politicians make empty promises, teachers pass students without teaching them properly, and the media often reports on things they’re told not to, or they put out random stories.

Flurry mentioned she’s an IT specialist due to her time in an administrative role. I pointed out that when she joined the force, all her tech experience was from the days when DOS was cutting edge. Back in the 90s, computer literacy was rare. Even now, in the dawn of the 21st century, computer literacy is still not universal. Many people know how to turn a computer on and off and type on a keyboard, but that’s about it. Many older officers didn’t grow up with computers and had to go to college or some kind of school to learn how to operate them. Computers were big and bulky back then, but now they’re getting skinnier and more compact, slowly replacing the older models.

Flurry said her time in administration made her able to cross-reference and spot discrepancies because many officers she worked with cooked the books to make their districts seem like they had more problems than they did, just to get more resources.

I told Flurry that when my great-grandparents were on the job, cities like Empire were way ahead of rural towns like Moonlight Cove and Sunset Vale, which seemed stuck 20-30 years in the past. Back then, people had no safety nets. If something happened to them, they couldn't provide for themselves. Marrying for love was a luxury; people often married someone "suitable" just to survive. Even in cities, jobs were scarce, even in industrial sectors.

Many of the people back then were of Irish descent, and about 90% of the cops and firemen were Irish. This historical trend is why you often hear old recordings with Irish accents. In many Irish households in Empire, every family had at least one male as a cop. The other 10% of the force were people of African, Italian, Austrian, and German descent.

Nowadays, a wealthy person likely has a college degree and legal protections that allow them to defy their parents. But back then, college educations on Little Bird were rare until the 1940s. I didn't sugarcoat it for Flurry—I showed her how tough life was when many people were still considered second-class citizens. They depended on the household's higher-ups to survive and had few opportunities to earn money.

I also mentioned that when my great-grandparents were on the job, the city mayor once said, "A man should put down his guns and start living a life of relentless purity." Ironically, the following week marked the outbreak of the First World War. Flurry found that quite ironic, and I had to agree.

I even told Flurry that both of my great-grandmothers did the same kind of work she does now—administrative roles. Flurry's in an administrative position because her eyes are sensitive to bright lights, so the department put her in a dimly lit area and on the night shift to make it easier on her.

I explained to Flurry that back in the 1910s, it wasn't until the late 1930s that women were allowed to enter male-dominated jobs due to the lack of available men after World War I. However, the Fire Department in Empire changed much earlier. In the 1890s, the city was hit by a disease that made many people sick, affecting various occupations. The Police Department was temporarily rebranded as City Guards, reminiscent of medieval times, tasked with arresting people and fighting fires. Non-sick households marked their doors with white chalk or paint, while medical personnel marked infected homes with red.

Medicine back then was primitive compared to today. Many old-timers still believed in using whiskey as pain relief, and doctors didn't fully understand X-rays until after World War II. Blood types weren't discovered until 1901, and it wasn't until 1921 that Vitamin D and insulin were discovered. I told Flurry that my great-grandparents contracted tuberculosis. Treatments started in 1921, but a vaccine didn't come until 1927. They were smokers, which was common back then, and it wasn't until the 1920s that doctors realized smoking could be deadly. Medical documents confirming this weren't released until the 1950s and 60s.

I explained that about 10% of people who get infected with tuberculosis ever develop the disease. Generally, if you make it two years without symptoms, you're in the clear. However, smokers like my great-grandparents had a higher probability of it becoming active. Even today, about 80% of people in the developing world carry the disease, though it can now be treated with antibiotics. Pre-antibiotics, people had about a one-third chance of surviving it, so it wasn't an automatic death sentence. My great-grandparents got tuberculosis around 1915, and a cure and vaccine came a year and seven years after they died, respectively. Flurry noted that my great-grandparents weren't in that one-third chance, but she said it without being disrespectful.

We soon left the closet to continue our conversation.

Flurry told me about a police report she read and entered into the system. The report detailed how a woman’s parents forged medical records to force her into surrogacy for her sister. The woman’s family showed up, putting her in an uncomfortable situation due to medical reasons. Follow-up reports indicated the family was looking at legal options to force her into being a surrogate. The parents falsified her medical records and tried to hide them from doctors and others. The police reports only mentioned officers removing those people from the woman’s property.

I told Flurry that’s wrong and against the law. The country of Little Bird has strict laws against forcing someone to be a surrogate without consent. If a drunk person gives consent, it’s not valid because they wouldn’t know what they would answer if they were sober. I shared a popular saying: “You can never choose your biological parents, but you can always choose your family.” Many families are selfish and don’t consider others' well-being. Some people can’t have kids due to various reasons, and some can’t physically have a baby. When parents say, “How can you be so selfish?” they often ignore the person’s well-being.

I added that many people have family members who prioritize their own wants over others' well-being. It’s a sad reality, but it’s important to stand up for what’s right and protect those who can’t protect themselves.

I told Flurry about a call I responded to involving a couple arguing over a divorce settlement. The woman called her soon-to-be ex-husband boring, and after they divorced, she demanded he pay child support for her new husband's children and cover his gambling debts. When he refused, she threw a hot bowl of stew in his face. The second incident happened in a public place, and someone called it in as a disturbance. When Asyling tried to arrest the woman, she threw a punch and hit Asyling in the face. The woman was quickly subdued and arrested for assaulting a peace officer, even though the ex-husband didn’t want to press charges. Asyling’s right cheek hurt for a while, but she dealt with the pain by eating hard foods like steak and drinking whiskey.

I also shared a lighter story from Asyling’s time in the Navy. On a navy base, she saw a horse enter the barracks and ate scrambled eggs, beer, cola, and about $30 worth of poker chips. Flurry asked if the horse was from the Marines, but I explained that the Little Bird military still uses horses to patrol trails around military installations where 4x4 vehicles can’t go due to mud or if the terrain is unsuitable for a vehicle.

Flurry laughed at the horse story. “That’s quite a sight! It’s amazing how animals can find their way into the most unexpected places.”

“I can see why the PD still uses horses because they can reach areas that a vehicle can’t,” Flurry said. “Horses have been employed for a very long time for specialized duties ranging from patrol of parks and wilderness areas, where cars would be impractical or can’t navigate.”

I told Flurry that horses aren’t good for cities because running on concrete or asphalt is typically discouraged due to "road founder," a type of laminitis that can occur after sudden hoof stress, such as running on a very hard surface. Other injuries can occur from extreme stress on limbs and ligaments. However, many horses walk on concrete without issues. Many places have working horses that require walking on concrete or asphalt, and many trail systems require crossing roads or riding through towns to get to where the trail picks up again.

Back in the 1920s and 30s, the Little Bird Military gave 90% of their horses to cities, towns, and park rangers because the military was undergoing mass motorization. Trucks were faster and could carry more than horses. The 10% of horses kept by the military were used for military police and to bring supplies off-road and across country where automobiles couldn’t go. Horses are easier to maintain than vehicles because, with a vehicle, you have a lot of maintenance. With a horse, the rider just has to feed it, give it water, and keep it clean. Vehicles require gas, oil changes, tire changes, and more costly maintenance. However, training horses takes months, if not years, to get them used to their trainer and future rider and to respond to commands like coming when whistled for.

Flurry asked if I ever rode a horse. I told her I’ve been kicked by a horse because I didn’t know you’re not suppose to walk behind a horse, but my cousin Mackenzie and my wife, who shares the same first name, have ridden horses for leisure. And that my cousin told me not to walk behind a horse because they’re prey animals and feel threatend if someone walks or stands behind them and I learned the hard way.

Flurry laughed. “It sounds like you’ve had some interesting experiences with horses.”

I said. “They’re incredible animals, but they require a lot of care and training. It’s fascinating to see how they’re still used in certain roles today.”

Flurry nodded. “It’s neat how some things change while others stay the same. Horses have been a part of law enforcement for so long, and they still play a vital role in certain areas.”

I replied. “It’s all about using the right tools for the job, whether it’s a horse, a vehicle, or advanced technology. Each has its place and purpose.”

I told Flurry that I’ve read her file as well how she meets with a PD therapist and how nobody gets through this unscaved and said how she’s an insomniac. Flurry said how she wishes she could enjoy life some more and not worry.

I said “Worry is a bully. It doesn’t give it takes away.”

Flurry said how she wishes she can’t stop worrying about tomorrow and what lies ahead. But I told her that many people are the type who worry about tomorrow for many reasons and many don’t know how to get throughout the day without thinking about what’s going to happen in five minutes while others just go on throughout the day not caring about tomorrow because to them yesterday is in the past, today is here and now, and tomorrow isn’t here yet and don’t worry about what’s going to happen tomorrow because tomorrow isn’t here yet.

But I told Flurry that it’s weird that she deals with her insomnia by sleeping in a motel than her own apartment but that’s her and she has a right to sleep where she feels comfortable and safe at and if it’s where she can get sleep without needing medicine to sleep then she’s more than welcome to do whatever.

Flurry said she respects my cousin Asyling because she’s the type of cop who throws cards right back in people’s faces. Asyling, Mackenzie, Sonata, and I were born and raised in two districts in the city of Empire that many cops love because corrupt or dishonest officers target unprivileged people who don’t have the monetary gain, prestige, or family background to protect them. The rich have money, prestige, and history, so many people bend over backwards to please and placate those with power. Asyling doesn’t cater to anybody. Once, she confronted an angry alderman who threatened her job. Asyling told him to back off, saying she wasn’t scared of him. If he got her fired, she’d make sure it wouldn’t happen without a fight. Asyling is a living stereotype of the Irish love to fight. If the alderman got her fired, she’d ensure he was in hot water with the public and the government for threatening a cop and using his position to cover up his son’s crimes. That wouldn’t reflect well with his constituents or the higher-ups in the government.

Once, Asyling had an argument with a higher-up from HQ about releasing someone because the suspect knew a higher-up in the PD. Asyling rallied the people of the Eastside district to put pressure on the EPD. At first, the PD didn’t care, but soon Sonata got the people of Westside rallied. Anderson joined in, and the EPD didn’t care about the 160,000 strong, but when another 155,000 and then another 55,000 joined, the city population of 370,000 out of 1.5 million put a ton of pressure on the Police Department to undo that high-ranking official’s decision.

Flurry nodded, impressed by Asyling’s determination. “It’s amazing how she stands up for what’s right, no matter the consequences.”

“Absolutely,” I said. “Asyling’s dedication to justice and her willingness to fight for what’s right is inspiring. It’s not always easy, but it’s crucial to have people like her in the force.”

Flurry agreed. “It’s clear that she’s making a positive impact and holding people accountable, no matter their status.”

“Exactly,” I replied. “It’s about integrity and doing the right thing, even when it’s tough. That’s what makes a great officer.”

I told Flurry that Sonata, Mackenzie, Sonata, and I come from districts where people abhor the police department. In Eastside and Westside, many people despise the cops because they often encounter officers who act like they’re holier than thou, believing their badge gives them the authority to do whatever they please and abuse their power without consequence. It's cops like them that necessitate the existence of ACT (Anti-Corruption Team) and IAC (Integrity and Accountability Commission).

Flurry noted that the country of Little Bird loves acronyms. The IAC requires officers to explain their finances and any discrepancies, making it a corrupt cop’s worst nightmare. If an officer is making more money than they should, they have to explain it. Many can justify their extra income with second jobs, but those who can’t, well, it usually doesn’t end well for them.

I shared with Flurry how in Eastside and Westside, the slow response times from cops fuel the hatred. For example, back in 1987, there was a robbery in Eastside, and the first patrol car arrived 14 hours after the call was made. The Robbery detectives didn’t show up until a couple of years later, claiming they were busy with other cases. In reality, they were pushing the case to the bottom of their pile, even offering assistance to other detectives to keep it there.

Flurry shook her head in disbelief. “It’s no wonder people feel the way they do. The system is failing them.”

“Exactly,” I said. “That’s why it’s so important to have accountability measures like ACT and IAC. We need to rebuild trust with the communities we serve, and that starts with holding ourselves to the highest standards.”

Flurry agreed. “It’s a long road, but it’s clear that you and your family are committed to making a positive difference.”

I replied. “Every step we take towards integrity and accountability helps us move in the right direction. It’s not always easy, but it’s essential for creating a better future for everyone.”

I even told Flurry how Asyling is the type of Captain who, if she says something is going to happen, it’s going to happen. Flurry recalled reading a newspaper about the Bottlecap Killer when she was still an administrative officer. The article said what Asyling said, “This murderer, the Bottlecap Killer, can keep taking lives, but be advised they cannot hide forever with the greatest police force in the world. One day, the Bottlecap Killer will make a mistake somewhere, and we’ll be there waiting.” The city indeed has a problem with the Bottlecap Killer, with five victims so far.

Flurry mentioned how the Bottlecap Killer is unique. From some criminal psychology books she read, she learned that criminals, when they start out, usually stick to a small area close to home. This gives them a safe retreat if something goes wrong. They don’t leave their comfort area until they feel confident enough. Many crimes in the city are caused by people who are starting out and choose a predetermined area to commit their crimes, with a quick way back home if something goes wrong. They build up confidence over time to leave their comfort zone.

I nodded, understanding the pattern. “It’s true. Many criminals start close to home where they feel safest. It’s only when they gain confidence that they expand their range. The Bottlecap Killer will make a mistake eventually, and we’ll be there to catch them.”

Flurry agreed. “It’s just a matter of time and persistence. With the dedication and skill of the police force, we’ll eventually bring them to justice.”

I replied. “Every case, every investigation, brings us closer to solving these crimes and ensuring the safety of our community. It’s a tough job, but it’s one we’re committed to seeing through.”

I told Flurry that my perspective on laws is a double-edged sword. There are laws that are very good and necessary, while others are biased and wrong. Flurry agreed, noting that some laws can punish people for doing good or the right thing. I countered by saying that there are laws that reflect each other. For example, if someone helps another with medical aid but makes it worse, they should logically be punished. However, laws like the Good Samaritan law protect people from prosecution for trying to help. There’s also the Duty to Rescue law, which scares people into helping others. If they ignore someone in need, they can be charged with endangerment. It’s a double-edged sword; both laws encourage helping, but also punish those who ignore someone in need.

I gave Flurry an example from the Ports district. In a diner, someone was choking, and instead of performing the Heimlich maneuver, another person performed a tracheostomy, which did more harm than good. Fire and medical services chewed out the person, saying the Heimlich maneuver could’ve been done and saved time. People who try to save others in fires also get chewed out by the Fire Department for being wannabe firefighters. A building fire generates interior temperatures upwards of 1,000 degrees Fahrenheit—far beyond what any human can survive. The smoke is even deadlier, often incapacitating or killing people before the flames reach them. Firefighters have specialized protective gear to handle these hazards and scold people for running into dangerous situations because they end up as victims too.

Flurry asked how I knew all this. I told her that my friend Linda, who’s also my neighbor, and her boyfriend are both firefighters. Linda’s family has been in the city Fire Department since its formation in 1710 as the Empire Volunteer Fire Department, which changed to a combination department in 1810, becoming a paid professional department with both paid and volunteer companies. I also mentioned the irony of Linda’s family being from the Native Little Birden Nightingale tribe, who were responsible for starting fires for heat, cooking, and lighting, but since the 1710s, their job has been to fight fires.