“Bruce, you lazy bum, why aren’t you down yet!?”
A Ford Raptor, engine still running, was parked below a three-story apartment building.
A dark-skinned Black man sat in the open driver’s seat, leaning his head out to shout at the upper floors.
His booming voice seemed to vibrate the very windows of the building.
A moment later, a shout even sharper than the last rang out from upstairs, reaching the man’s ears through the glass: “W!
T!
F!?”
The Black man instantly flared up in anger.
He jumped out of the Raptor’s driver’s seat and rushed into the building, muttering incessantly, “Motherfucker, Bruce, you’re dead.
If I’m late, I’m gonna kick your ass.”
Meanwhile, in a room on the third floor, a young man of Chinese descent was staring at himself in the mirror.
His hands were slapping his head as he screamed, “No, this is impossible!
OMG!!!
NO!!!”
The Asian man’s name was Bruce Stacy.
He was twenty-four years old.
After graduating from the University of Chicago Law School last year, he immediately took the police academy entrance exam and was lucky enough to pass on his first try.
After completing eight months of training at the police academy, today was his official first day at the Chicago South District 21st Precinct.
The reason for his screaming was simple: he was no longer his original self.
How should he put it?
Inside Bruce Stacy’s body now resided a soul from another timeline’s China—a young man named Li Yunmo.
Li Yunmo had also been a police officer in his own world, working on the front lines for nearly five years.
He was supposed to report to a new unit today.
He never expected to wake up in this unfamiliar environment.
At this moment, the memories of the two souls began to merge, causing Li Yunmo to subconsciously scream and strike his head to alleviate the pain from the memory intrusion.
With a “bang,” the door was burst open, and the Black man who had been shouting downstairs appeared outside.
“Bruce, what’s wrong with you?
I’ve been calling you forever, why didn’t you open the door?” Seeing Bruce Stacy hitting his head, he gave a knowing look.
“I told you not to drink so much last night.
Let’s go!
If we’re late today, we’re dead!”
Saying this, he grabbed Bruce’s clothes and pulled him downstairs.
In the car, Bruce slowly regained his senses.
He turned his head to look at the Black man who was driving and honking at people while cursing.
The man’s name was Morgan Jackson.
He was also twenty-four years old and had been in the same academy class as Bruce.
They were roommates in the same apartment and were now colleagues at the same precinct.
According to Morgan, his father was a high-ranking official in the Chicago Police Department.
In short, his family was well-off; the Raptor he was driving was a graduation gift from his father.
As for Bruce’s own family, his memories were still a bit fuzzy.
“Motherfucker, Bruce, you’re finally awake.
Get dressed!
Those bitches from the patrol bureau almost took you for a junkie!” Morgan noticed Bruce was finally alert and immediately urged him irritably.
“Hurry up, we’re almost at the precinct.
fuck!
Do you even know how to drive?
If not, go home and let your mother teach you!”
Hearing this, Bruce looked at the clothes in the back seat, climbed over, and started dressing right there.
Shortly after, the Raptor pulled into the 21st Precinct parking lot.
The two of them rushed inside to report to the desk sergeant.
Platt looked at the two rookies—one Asian, one Black—and repeatedly compared them to the files in her hand.
Bruce and Morgan tried their best to steady their breathing, showing eight teeth in a smile that matched their ID photos.
After a minute of silence, Platt didn’t say a word.
She put the files into her desk, pointed toward the locker room, and went back to her work.
Bruce and Morgan exchanged a look and shrugged, wondering how they had offended Platt.
They weren’t even late.
In the locker room, many colleagues were already changing into their uniforms.
The two of them greeted everyone.
“Oh~ the rookies are here~”
“Welcome, welcome.”
“Good luck, hang in there.”
…
When Bruce and Morgan were fully dressed in their uniforms and gear and appeared before Sergeant Platt again, the woman, who looked like she wasn’t to be trifled with, finally spoke: “Rookie Bruce Stacy, you’re patrolling with Hayek.
As for you, Morgan Jackson, go report to the Commander’s office first.”
After speaking, Platt called out to a female officer nearby: “Hayek, we’ve got a rookie!”
The two were confused by the situation, but they could only salute and acknowledge.
Finally, Bruce got into a patrol car with the female officer, while Morgan helplessly pushed open the door to the precinct Commander’s office.
…
In the patrol car, the two of them, meeting for the first time, were introducing themselves.
“Hi, I’m Bruce Stacy, the rookie reporting today,” Bruce said, breaking the ice.
“Hi, I’m Catherine Hayek, your training officer,” Katherine said as she drove the patrol car through the streets.
“For the next few months, I’ll be responsible for training you into a qualified Chicago police officer.”
Katherine seemed very cold and aloof, looking a bit like Anne Hathaway.
She was in her late twenties, about 175cm tall, weight unknown—it was impossible to tell under the heavy police gear—with a high bridge to her nose, fair skin, and bright red lips.
Bruce was curious how such a beautiful woman, who could easily be an actress, ended up as a cop—especially in a crime-ridden city like Chicago.
Of course, he only thought this; he couldn’t ask, as they weren’t that close yet.
While Bruce was observing Katherine, she was also observing him.
He was about 185cm tall with well-defined muscles.
Though he was of Asian descent, he had deep features like a Westerner, making him a classic handsome guy.
Katherine was also curious why Bruce had become a cop.
Just then, a mechanical voice rang in Bruce’s ear: “Ding!
Host has officially started duty.
tough cop system activated…”
Instantly, Bruce’s eyes widened, confusing Katherine.
She looked in the direction Bruce was staring and saw several gang members on the side of the road harassing a pregnant woman who had fallen.
Katherine braked quickly, unbuckled her seatbelt, drew her gun, and stepped out, not forgetting to instruct Bruce: “Bruce, report the situation to the precinct and request backup.”
Bruce snapped out of it and hurried out of the car.
While drawing his glock 17 from his waist, he reported to the dispatch center via his shoulder radio: “Dispatch, dispatch, Unit 22 has an emergency on South Avenue.
A pregnant woman is being attacked by multiple subjects.
We are exiting the vehicle to investigate.
Requesting backup…”
“…Hiss, copy that.
Nearest patrol will arrive in three minutes.
An ambulance is on the way…” Platt’s calm voice came through.
Katherine, walking ahead, had already raised her glock 17 and warned loudly, “Hey, CPD!
Everyone stop!
Stay where you are, don’t move!
Hands behind your heads and get down!”
Seeing the cops, the gang members stopped beating the pregnant woman curled on the ground, but they remained defiant: “Officer, how am I supposed to get down without moving!?”
Their fearless attitude suggested they dealt with the police often.
Katherine ignored their glibness, advancing slowly with her gun raised, her voice commanding: “I’ll say it again: hands behind your heads, get down!”
Bruce had now caught up to Katherine.
The two of them cooperated, guns drawn, watching the men ahead warily.
Suddenly, Bruce noticed one of the punks reaching slowly toward his back.
He immediately shouted a warning: “Hey, stop!
Get your hands up!”
This was America, where firearms were everywhere; one had to be cautious.
At the same time, shouting was meant to alert Katherine that the suspect might be armed.
Hearing this, Katherine also noticed the man suspected of having a gun and immediately went on high alert.
“Hands up!
Now!
Right now!”
Seeing their firm stance, the more cowardly punks quickly raised their hands in surrender.
However, the man suspected of being armed gritted his teeth, quickly lifted his shirt, and drew a handgun from his back, aiming it at Katherine.
In that split second, Katherine and Bruce fired simultaneously—Bruce was even a fraction faster.
“Bang bang bang…”
In an instant, they both fired three shots—two to the body, one to the hand.
The gunman across from them was hit six times and fell to the ground.
“Dispatch, dispatch, suspect was armed, shots fired by officers.
Requesting immediate backup!
Fast!” Katherine kept her gun raised while reporting to dispatch.
“…Hiss, copy.
ETA one minute…”
“Now!
Right now!
Hands behind your heads, on the ground!!!” Bruce warned the other punks, his hands not shaking in the slightest despite what had just happened.
Katherine took note and mentally gave Bruce a passing grade.
The surrounding residents had scattered the moment they heard the gunshots, leaving only a few punks shivering on the ground and the pregnant woman curled up, motionless.
Katherine kept her gun trained on them and signaled Bruce to move forward and control the punks.
Bruce nodded in understanding, pulled out zip ties, and bound the punks’ hands behind their backs.
Once everything was over, police cars arrived with sirens blaring, followed by an ambulance.
This no longer concerned the two of them.
Since shots were fired, they had to return to the precinct for an investigation.
Their service weapons had already been confiscated by the arriving colleagues.
Sitting in the car back to the precinct, Katherine praised Bruce for his calmness.
Bruce just smiled, closed his eyes, and leaned back against the seat.
Katherine assumed Bruce needed to rest after the high tension and didn’t disturb him further, closing her eyes as well.
Little did she know, Bruce’s mind was entirely focused on the system.
Just as he had neutralized the gang member, the system had prompted: [Criminal neutralized.
Obtained one Wooden Treasure Chest.]
“Open system…” As Bruce thought the words, a panel appeared before him.
[System]: tough cop system (Killing criminals or solving cases will drop treasure chests)
[Host]: Bruce Stacy
[Physical Stats]: Age 24, Height 185CM, Weight 85KG
[Occupation]: Chicago South District 21st Precinct Patrol Officer
[Strength]: 13 (Average person is 10) (Bone density, muscle strength, blood flow velocity)
[Speed]: 13 (Average person is 10) (Agility, neural reaction, coordination)
[Endurance]: 13 (Average person is 10) (Organ health, bone density, muscle strength, recovery rate)
[Spirit]: 18 (Average person is 10) (IQ, memory, observation, analysis, logical reasoning)
[Talent]: None
[Skill]: Form-Intention Fist LV3: A Chinese martial art learned in Chinatown since childhood.
Increases physical attributes by 30% and provides certain combat capabilities.
[Skill]: American Iaijutsu LV1: Increases draw-and-fire speed by 10%.
[Standard Weaponry]: glock 17 semi-automatic pistol, Tiger Shark Taser, Model 1118B High-Voltage Telescopic Baton
[Reserve Weaponry]: M4A1 Carbine, Remington 870 Shotgun
[Armor]: Blank ST Series Bulletproof Vest
[Vehicle]: Ford Crown Victoria Police Interceptor
[Special Gear]: None
[Treasure Chests]: One Wooden Treasure Chest
…
No fairy guide, no instructions—just a simple, direct character panel…