Dinner ended in an atmosphere that was slightly absurd yet unusually harmonious.
Today was the first time Bruce and Morgan had met Katherine, but they got along exceptionally well.
During the meal, Morgan, the newly minted “second-generation cop,” kept trying his best to deny the label Bruce had given him.
After her initial shock, Katherine quickly regained her usual slightly aloof demeanor.
She elegantly sampled the Chinese dishes Bruce had prepared, casting a few sympathetic “good luck with that” glances at Morgan.
After all, with a father who was a supervisor in the Internal Affairs Bureau watching over him, the start of his police career was not going to be easy at all.
“So, you’re reporting to the 1st Precinct in the Central District tomorrow?” Bruce asked, wiping his mouth after finishing the last piece of braised pork ribs.
“Yeah, dammit.
I haven’t even had time to warm up my locker in the 21st Precinct’s locker room.” Morgan took a swig of red wine, sounding dejected.
“The old man says the South Side is too chaotic; promotions are fast but the risks are too high.
He forced me into the relatively ‘calm’ Central Police District, calling it ‘building a good foundation’ in his own words.
fuck, I’m twenty-four already, what kind of foundation do I still need to build!”
Katherine swirled her wine glass, her red lips parting slightly.
“Officer Jackson, look on the bright side.
At least you won’t have to face armed thugs on your first day of work, and you won’t have to worry about being targeted by Internal Affairs immediately after firing a shot.”
She clinked her glass against Bruce’s and paused, a playful smile curling at the corner of her mouth.
“Besides, the Central Police District is indeed ‘calm’ enough to be suitable for learning the rules and regulations.”
Morgan rolled his eyes.
“Officer Hayek, that consolation of yours is certainly unique.”
Bruce smiled and stood up to clear the dishes.
“Alright, Morgan, stop moping.
A change of environment isn’t necessarily a bad thing.
At least with your old man around, no one will dare to easily give you a hard time.
Once you’ve accumulated some experience and want to transfer back or go to another more challenging department, it’ll be easier.”
“I hope so.” Morgan sighed and helped clear the table as well.
Katherine didn’t stay long.
After helping clean the table, she took her leave.
Before departing, she said to Bruce, “Enjoy your administrative leave, Officer Bruce.
I expect the investigation results will be out in two or three days at most.
Keep your phone on; Sergeant Platt or the Commander might contact you.”
“Understood.
Thanks for the heads-up, Katherine.” Bruce nodded, showing he understood the process.
“Finally, thank you for the hospitality.
Your cooking is quite good.” Katherine waved and disappeared around the corner of the stairs.
…
After seeing Katherine off, Bruce and Morgan chatted briefly.
It was mostly Morgan complaining about his father’s tyranny and his “worries” about his future “boring” police career.
He had originally chosen to be assigned to the unstable South Side specifically to escape his father’s control.
To this, Bruce could only offer a few words of comfort mixed with teasing; after all, he himself had run all the way from New York to Chicago.
Once Morgan went to his room to rest, the apartment finally grew quiet.
Bruce returned to his own room, closed the door, and took a deep breath.
The tension and excitement of the day, the aftermath of the memory fusion, the interactions with new colleagues…
all of it left him feeling a genuine fatigue, yet deep inside, a strange excitement was pulsing.
Rebirth, America, the police, and a system!
Bruce focused his mind and thought, ‘Open the system panel.’
The semi-transparent light blue panel appeared before his eyes again.
It was no different from what he had seen during the day, except that in the treasure chest column, there was now a lonely [Wooden Treasure Chest].
“Dropped from killing criminals…
which means as long as I take down those who break the law, I have a chance to get a treasure chest?” Bruce pondered.
“They also drop after solving cases.
It seems it’s not just through violent means; intellectual case-solving works too.
This system is quite interesting; it’s encouraging me to be a super cop, both in action and in thought.”
Bruce tried to touch the Wooden Treasure Chest with his consciousness.
The chest emitted a faint glow and then vanished.
[Obtained: Skill Point x1]
[Obtained: beginner talent fragment x1]
[Obtained: $500 Cash (Deposited into the host’s hidden account)]
There were no dazzling lights or world-shaking changes, only three concise system messages.
“Skill points?
Can they directly increase skill levels?” Bruce looked at his skill bar: Form-Intention Fist and American Iaijutsu.
He tried focusing his attention on American Iaijutsu, and sure enough, a faint “+” symbol emerged.
“Use skill point,” Bruce thought.
“Ding!
Skill point used successfully.
American Iaijutsu upgraded to LV2: Draw-and-fire speed increased by 20%, shooting stability slightly increased.”
A warm current, accompanied by subtle techniques and muscle memory regarding rapid drawing, aiming, and gun control, merged into Bruce’s body and consciousness.
He subconsciously made a phantom drawing motion and felt it was indeed smoother and more confident than before.
“Not bad.” Bruce nodded with satisfaction.
Marksmanship was one of the fundamental life-saving skills for a police officer, especially in this country where firearms were everywhere.
Next, Bruce looked at the [beginner talent fragment].
His consciousness touched it, and information surfaced: [Collect 10 beginner talent fragments to randomly synthesize one beginner talent.
Talents are passive effects that can significantly enhance a certain aspect of the host’s abilities or provide special convenience.]
“Need to save up ten…” Bruce made a note of it.
It seemed this was a “developmental” system that required accumulation.
As for the $500 in cash, it was deposited directly into a “hidden account.” The system was quite thoughtful, saving him the trouble of explaining the origin of the money.
Although it wasn’t much, it was a good starting reward.
After studying today’s gains, Bruce carefully reviewed his attribute panel once more.
His Spirit of 18 points far exceeded that of an ordinary person.
This was likely the result of the fusion and stacking of two souls, which explained why he could quickly adapt and calmly handle the situation during the day.
Endurance at 13 points was also good; police work required physical stamina.
Strength at 13 points was slightly above average, and Speed at 13 points was also decent.
“Speed includes agility, reaction, and coordination…
I need to find a way to increase this.
Whether chasing suspects or avoiding danger, speed is key.” Bruce thought to himself, looking at his Level 3 Form-Intention Fist.
“It seems I can’t neglect Form-Intention Fist.
Endurance, Strength, and Speed are all related to the level of Form-Intention Fist.
It improves physical fitness!
I see!”
He then looked at the [Common Weapons] and [Backup Weapons] lists.
These were all standard police-issued equipment or items that could be requested under special circumstances.
The glock 17 was his sidearm, and it had already drawn blood today.
Thinking back to the feeling of firing the gun during the day, Bruce found his heart exceptionally calm.
He didn’t have the trembling, after-fear, or excessive excitement common in novices.
This was perhaps thanks to his experiences in his past life and the influence of his current high Spirit attribute.
“Bruce Stacy…
Li Yunmo…” He whispered the two names.
Walking to the full-length mirror, he looked at the young, handsome face with mixed-race features in the reflection.
His gaze gradually became firm.
“No matter who I was before, now I am Bruce Stacy, an officer of the Chicago Police Department’s 21st Precinct.
In this…
seemingly slightly different world, I’ll live well and be a good cop.”
…
For the next two days, Bruce remained on administrative leave.
Morgan had already moved out, so he was now alone in the apartment; he would need to find someone to share the rent.
He used this time to completely familiarize himself with his new identity, environment, and memories.
On the afternoon of the third day, Bruce’s phone rang.
It was a number from the 21st Precinct.
“Officer Stacey, this is Platt.” The desk sergeant’s crisp, no-nonsense voice came from the other end.
“Good afternoon, Sergeant Platt.” Bruce’s voice was a bit tense.
“The Internal Affairs Bureau’s preliminary investigation is over.
The scene evidence and Officer Hayek’s testimony all support that your actions were justified and necessary.
The Commander has signed off.
Your administrative leave is over.
Report to the precinct tomorrow morning at eight sharp.
Your sidearm and badge will be returned to you.”
“Understood.
Thank you, Sergeant.” Bruce replied excitedly.
Yes!
“Don’t thank me; thank yourself for not doing anything stupid.” Platt paused, her tone seemingly softening by an imperceptible margin.
“Also, your partner, Officer Hayek, will continue to lead you tomorrow.
Do a good job and don’t cause me any trouble.”
“Yes, Sergeant!”
Hanging up the phone, Bruce pumped his fist.
His police career was about to officially begin.
…
Early on the fourth day, at seven forty-five, Bruce, dressed in his crisp dark blue police uniform with his glock 17 at his waist, walked into the 21st Precinct’s reception hall.
The air was thick with the scent of coffee, disinfectant, and paper.
From time to time, the radio emitted calls from dispatch and replies from patrol officers, a scene of bustling activity.
Sergeant Platt was still sitting behind the front desk, processing documents without looking up, merely pointing the tip of her pen toward the locker room.
Bruce walked to the locker room with familiarity.
Many colleagues were already inside, changing shifts or preparing to head out.
The Black officer he had met yesterday, Kevin Atwater, was adjusting his badge in the mirror.
Seeing Bruce, he immediately broke into a bright smile.
“Hey!
Look who’s back!
Our super rookie tough guy!” Kevin’s loud voice drew more eyes.
A blonde female officer nearby, who was organizing her gear, turned her head.
It was Kim Burgess, who had also greeted him that day.
She smiled and nodded at Bruce.
“Welcome back, Bruce.
How are you feeling?”
“I feel great.
Officer Atwater, Officer Burgess, thank you.” Bruce responded with a smile, opening his locker.
“Just call me Kim,” Burgess said amiably.
“I heard you’re officially patrolling with Hayek today?
She’s one of the best cops in our precinct, but she has high standards.
You’d better stay sharp.”
“I will.” Bruce said seriously.
“Relax, rookie.
Also, just call me Kevin,” Kevin walked over and patted Bruce on the shoulder.
“I’m good friends with the bar owner out front.
Go there and mention my name for a discount.”
Just then, the locker room door was pushed open, and Catherine Hayek walked in.
She was already fully geared up, her black hair pulled back neatly into a bun, looking professional and cool.
She scanned the room, her gaze lingering on Bruce for a moment as she gave a slight nod.
“Bruce, five minutes.
See you in the parking lot.” Her voice was clear and calm.
“Yes, Officer.” Bruce quickened his pace, checking his gear: handgun, spare magazines, handcuffs, baton, pepper spray, radio, first-aid kit…
everything was there.
When he arrived at the parking lot, Katherine was already waiting by the familiar Ford Victoria Crown patrol car, the morning light outlining her upright figure.
“Get in.
You’re driving today.” Katherine said as she pulled open the passenger door and sat inside.
Bruce sat in the driver’s seat as told, adjusted the seat and mirrors, fastened his seatbelt, and started the engine.
The vehicle smoothly pulled out of the precinct parking lot.
“Familiarize yourself with the patrol area.
The fifteen blocks around South Avenue are our primary area of responsibility.
Keep your eyes open, not just for obvious crimes, but for unusual situations, signs of disputes, and citizens in need of help.” Katherine began her training.
“Pay attention to the radio channel at all times, and be ready to respond to backup requests.”
“Understood.” Bruce drove with focus, his gaze scanning the neighborhood as it gradually began to wake up.
This was the South Side of Chicago, known for its high crime rate and complex racial composition.
Dilapidated houses, graffiti-covered walls, small groups of people with wary eyes gathered on street corners…
everything reminded him of the challenging nature of this job.