When the patrol car screeched onto Roosevelt Avenue, the crowd gathered outside “The Old Place” pool hall was already scattering like startled birds.
A dozen or so young men in various colored hoodies, like flies being swatted, quickly dispersed and vanished into the labyrinthine alleys.
They left behind a ground littered with crushed cigarette butts and a few provocative insults spray-painted in red.
Frank pulled the car over but didn’t kill the engine, nor did he show any intention of getting out.
Seeing this, Mike didn’t move to open his door either.
Backup patrol cars arrived one after another with lights flashing, and the scene was quickly brought under control.
If not for the messy pavement and the lingering stench of marijuana, it would have seemed as if the tense atmosphere from moments ago had never existed.
“See that?” Frank turned off the jarring siren and resumed his lazy demeanor.
“This is a typical Brooklyn ending.
They know our main force is coming, and we know what they’ve been up to.
As long as nobody’s dead, we give each other a bit of face and pretend nothing happened.
Everyone stays safe.
If we actually started shooting, bullets don’t have eyes.
It wouldn’t do anyone any favors.”
A potential crisis had dissolved into nothingness through a silent mutual understanding.
Mike nodded, his expression unreadable.
“I’ve learned something today,” he said, though a hint of disappointment flickered in his heart.
Handling these routine police calls felt futile, and more importantly, they offered no chance to trigger system tasks.
He had hoped this call would bring a breakthrough, but as soon as the sirens wailed and the patrol cars arrived, the crowd vanished like a disorganized rabble, just like in a TV drama.
Over the next few hours, the two of them followed procedure, patrolling and responding to calls.
They handled two neighbor disputes and a shoplifting case at a convenience store.
As Mike handcuffed the scrawny junkie who had stolen a pile of goods and stuffed him into the back of the patrol car, a system notification chimed in his mind:
[Ding!]
[Detected that the host has completed multiple routine policing tasks and has gained initial familiarity with the profession.]
[Side Quest module activated.
Side Quest task system is now open.]
Mike’s heart skipped a beat.
He silently took his seat in the passenger side, waiting for Frank to get the car moving before immediately sinking his consciousness into the system interface.
Sure enough, next to the main story task list, there was now a shimmering scroll icon labeled “Side Quests.”
He touched it with his mind, and a message unfurled:
[Side Quest: The Lost Pocket Watch]
[Task Source: Old Joseph’s Obsession (Triggered by Host)]
[Description: Old Joseph, a resident in your precinct, claims that a silver-plated pocket watch of great significance to him was stolen during yesterday’s community unrest.
He suspects a teenage pickpocket in a green jacket but lacks any evidence.
The watch has little monetary value but carries the memories of his late wife.]
[Requirement: Attempt to recover the pocket watch for Old Joseph (Any method allowed).]
[Reward: 50 Points, Old Joseph’s Favor, a slight increase in precinct reputation.]
No mandatory requirement, no failure penalty, not even a time limit.
This felt more like…
a repeatable dungeon for farming points that he could choose freely?
The discovery lifted his spirits.
It seemed the system wasn’t a pure oppressor; it was also guiding him, or rather, giving him a certain degree of freedom and a direction for growth.
So, routine police calls could trigger tasks after all!
After handing over the unpleasant suspect at the station, they only had twenty minutes left on their shift.
Frank stopped Mike from returning to the patrol car and instead found people to shoot the breeze with in the precinct lobby.
Mike followed Frank like an apprentice, observing his veteran partner’s words and actions, thinking he should eventually mimic this style to blend into the precinct.
Just then, his personal phone vibrated in his pocket.
He pulled it out to see an unfamiliar local number.
After a moment’s hesitation, he swiped to answer.
“Hey, Mike, it’s me, Sarah.” A familiar female voice came through the line, crisp and direct.
Mike froze for a second, not expecting her to reach out to him.
“Sarah?
Is something up?”
“Nothing urgent.
I just saw you in the lobby,” Sarah’s tone sounded casual, as if she were just calling an old classmate.
“I heard you guys handled that trouble on Roosevelt Avenue today?
I saw the 7-Adam-5 mention in the internal briefing.”
“Yeah, it looked like a big scene, but nothing really happened,” Mike replied.
“Looks like that old fox Frank is training you well.” She paused, her voice taking on a hint of languid charm.
“So, compared to staring at a computer screen and filing records in an office…
is it more interesting out there?”
Mike understood immediately.
This proud former prom queen, who was used to being the center of attention, was clearly bored to tears with the administrative work of serving tea and processing documents.
Mike stepped outside the building and chatted idly for a few minutes about mutual classmates and trivial daily matters.
As their shift neared its end, just when Mike thought the call was over, Sarah suggested nonchalantly, “Speaking of which, there isn’t even a decent bar around the precinct.
I know a motel in the East District that’s fairly clean.
What do you think?
Interested?
After all, we already know each other well…”
The hint was blunt enough.
Mike gripped the phone, silent for a few seconds as his brain quickly weighed the pros and cons.
Sarah had a background in the department and held an administrative position.
In the future, she might have access to internal information; she could be a valuable source.
On the other hand, a stable partner who knew him well without any emotional baggage was indeed a good choice for a single officer facing high work pressure.
“OK,” Mike finally answered.
“I’ll say goodbye to Frank.
Meet me in front of the fast-food place across the street in ten minutes.
I’ll buy you a burger tonight.”
“Thanks,” Sarah said, her voice suddenly dropping an octave.
“But I prefer sausage…
yours.
Hee-hee.”
Mike stared at his phone after she hung up, his face heating up slightly.
At 9:30 that night, on a large bed in a motel room under dim lighting, a man and a woman leaned against each other in their bathrobes.
There had been no unnecessary pleasantries when they arrived.
The “familiar” pair had been direct and efficient.
Now that it was over, there wasn’t much lingering tenderness, just casual conversation between friends.
“It’s a good thing I didn’t actually break up with you, otherwise I would have been too embarrassed to call,” Sarah said with a hint of bashfulness.
Mike kept his expression neutral, careful not to reveal that he was a different person now, while inwardly savoring the experience.
“But you said things couldn’t be like they were before.
Some things need to be said upfront.”
“Mhm!
I think we should be open and honest about it.” Sarah’s voice carried a trace of a smile, clearly satisfied with Mike’s hard work earlier.
“Three rules of engagement?
From now on…
just partners?” Mike glanced at her.
Although this “partner” dynamic felt a bit strange to him, he wasn’t particularly eager to continue a romantic relationship either.
After all, the original host’s feelings hadn’t been that deep, and he had system tasks to worry about.
But cutting ties completely…
he wasn’t quite ready for that either.
Sarah wasn’t just pretty; she was mixed-race like him.
She was about a quarter Latina, which gave her the fair skin of a Western girl combined with softer facial features.
In the Western aesthetic, she was considered beautiful but perhaps not the “ideal,” yet she perfectly fit the Eastern standard of beauty.
More importantly, Sarah didn’t have a bad scent when she sweated, which was a rare find.
While the original Mike might not have cared about body odor, it was something the current Mike was very sensitive to.
“You really do understand me.” Sarah cupped Mike’s face and gave him a kiss.
“We don’t interfere in each other’s lives.”
“Of course,” Mike nodded.
“But if you find another relationship or a partner, you have to tell me.
I don’t think I can accept sharing.”
“Wow!” Sarah looked surprised, then grinned.
“Big boy, it seems you still like me quite a bit.
Haha!”
Mike shrugged.
“It’s like how I wouldn’t like sharing a pet dog with someone else.
Same logic.”
Sarah punched him in annoyance.
“You’re the pet!
You’re the dog!
You and your macho attitude!
You’re still the same as ever!
Careful, or I won’t let you out of bed tomorrow!”
Mike quickly raised his hands in surrender.
This was a powerful threat; he had to back down.
Going to work with dark circles under his eyes was fine—plenty of the precinct’s workhorses did that—but going to work with a sore back would be the talk of the precinct by noon.