A/N: You can read ahead up to Episode 37: Obsession at my Patreon, along with other stories I wrote but never published before. Thank you for reading!
Episode 35 Royal Rumble
Jack Routh
Light duty.
That was what the brass handed down upon the recommendation of several psychiatrists to their squad. Their shifts a week were drastically cut, and that meant allowing the other metro platoons to step up and take the slack.
That meant he was doing desk work and returned home early. Zoe was envious of his temporary schedule and demanded home-cooked dinners since he had a lot of time to prepare. He wasn't a culinary genius, but he knew his way around the kitchen to prepare suitable meals.
Now he was given his latest assignment, to escort a group of four teenagers in a Juvenile facility while a camera crew covered the controversial program. It had been canceled some years back and was now being reactivated. It wasn't popular in the department, and even he had misgivings about it, but this Scared Straight program had the backing of the Mayor.
"So, Officer Routh." Lisa Mays of KWLA news smiled at him as they headed to the adult correctional facility just outside the city. "What do you think of this program?"
The woman barely left her side when she realized who he was when they picked up the three teenagers from juvenile detention. Thankfully, Nolan was there with him, his current partner was bursting with excitement at the nature of their new assignment. The new P2 was a big proponent of rehabilitating the teens and believed in second chances.
"I think it's a good program." Nolan answered for him, even though he was the one driving the shop. Mays and her cameraman were seated at the back, while the teens followed their shop in another vehicle from the juvenile detention facility.
"Aren't you concerned that instead of scaring them straight, as the proponent of this new program boasts, it will only hasten their exposure to cold-blooded criminals that can contribute to their moral decline?" Lisa Mays seemed to have done her research, since she recited almost word-for-word the statements from the critics of the controversial program.
"That's why the program specifically selected the criminals that they will get into contact with." Nolan answered. It looked like his partner had read the program's briefing that had been sent to them from the Mayor's office. "The program hopes that these at-risk youth heed the warnings of those who set foot on the wrong side of the law."
Their two-vehicle convoy soon reached the federal prison. He hated this part, being forced to surrender his weapon and backup piece, but they had to follow the correctional facility's policy for all visitors. They were stared at as they passed through the courtyards, the inmates yelling at the teens who were wearing uniform white sweaters, making them stand out from the sea of orange.
The correctional officer who introduced himself as Sergeant Smith started giving the teens a very warm welcome.
"You are now in my custody." Sergeant Smith ordered the four teens to line up, and he started walking back and forth behind them. "You will obey every order I give, or I will put my hands on you and I will make you obey. You ball up your fists, and I will take that as a sign of aggression, and I will put you on the ground, and I will handcuff you. Is that clear?"
Silence greeted the man, causing him to shout louder.
"IS THAT CLEAR?"
"Yes, Sir!"
He didn't know if the correctional officer was hamming it up for the camera, but it seemed to have made the slouched teens stand up straighter.
"What are their records?" Smith glanced at them.
"Marco Leland." He answered, having memorized the personnel files on the teens when he received the assignment this morning. "Assault and battery."
The mentioned teen raised a finger up and tried to hide a smirk.
"Tyson Renner." He indicated the teen with the afro. "Vandalism."
"Fletcher Perry." He pointed to the skinny teen with the long blonde hair. This one wasn't even trying to hide his smile. "Auto theft."
"That turn you on, baby?" Perry winked at Lisa Mays, causing Sergeant Smith to round up on him.
"Did I give you permission to speak?" The older man thundered.
"No." Perry looked bewildered.
"No, what?"
"No, sir!" Perry barked out like a new academy recruit.
"Hector Duran, spent three months in Juvie for theft and drug possession." He indicated the Latino teen. "If you complete today's program, the rest of your sentences will be commuted."
"But this is your last chance." Sergeant Smith added. "Get busted again, and this will become your new home. Let's move."
The gate buzzed open, and Sergeant Smith led the four teens inside the facility. As soon as they stepped inside, they were greeted by an older woman in a crisp blue jacket and slacks.
"Officer Routh, Officer Nolan." The woman extended a hand. "I'm Warden Miller."
"Good to meet you, Ma'am." He replied and shook the woman's hand.
"Are you familiar with this program before?" The Warden asked.
"Just in reading." He answered.
"Have any kids?" The Warden turned to his partner.
"I have a nineteen year old." Nolan answered.
"Then this is going to be hard to watch." The older woman warned.
The Warden led them down a long corridor, followed by several twists and turns, like a maze. The doors changed as they moved past the gates, from ornate wood to heavy steel, and the paint on the walls changed along with it.
They finally reached their designated room prepared by the warden after ten minutes of walking and going past checkpoints. There were eight wooden chairs, and he watched as Lisa Mays and her cameraman took a spot in the corner to prepare their shot.
"Take a seat." Sergeant Smith turned to the teens and pointed to one row of wooden chairs. Hector Duran was the last of the teens to enter the room, and he seemed to be hesitant in taking a seat.
"Are you deaf?" Smith placed a hand on the teen's shoulder. "I gave you an order!"
"Man, get your hands off me!" Duran complained.
That was the wrong thing to say, as the Sergeant grabbed the back of the teen's sweater and dragged him to a chair.
"I told you! If you don't listen, I will make you listen!" Smith pushed on the teen's shoulders with both hands. "Now sit your ass down!"
Once the teens were settled, Warden Miller gave a nod. Another steel door, opposite to the one they entered through, buzzed open.
Two convicts came in, and he immediately recognized one of them. The older man appeared deceptively non-threatening, but Lopez told him all about Oscar Hutchinson.
"Hey, I know you!" Oscar smiled when the older man turned to Nolan.
"You've got to be kidding me." He heard John mutter under his breath.
"You know Oscar?" Warden Miller asked.
"I apprehended him twice during multiple escape attempts," Nolan explained. "On one of those attempts, he stabbed my friend in the chest with a pair of scissors. I can't imagine he has anything useful to say to these kids."
"He's not here to say anything useful." Warden Miller explained in an even tone. "He's here because he's the monster that they will be locked up with."
The older woman pointed to another convict, a bald man with a beard and facial tattoos. He was walking around the teens, even leaning between their chairs to get a closer look at them. "And Mr. Caine here joined us eleven years ago, after he was convicted of a double homicide."
"Come on, Warden, give him some credit!" Oscar answered and turned to the teens. "Caine tore the arm of a guy that he caught his wife cheating on him with. He beat them both to death with it."
"Not sure it's a good idea to remind him of that." He remarked.
"No, but it sure is fun." Oscar replied and glanced at him. "You look familiar."
Caine even walked closer to Lisa Mays and inhaled, as if savoring her scent, before he sat down in the middle chair and looked at each teen in the eye. Even he remained alert at seeing the demented look on the man's eyes, and the wicked smile on his face.
"I know what you're thinking, that you're better than me, right?" Caine smiled. "Yeah, cause you're on the outside. 'Cause you got options."
Marco Leland rolled his eyes, and Caine immediately picked up on it, showing how observant he was.
"Did you just roll your eyes at me?" Caine asked and stood up in front of the teen. "What, you think you got a death wish? Think these guards are going to save you?"
Marco looked terrified, and he tried to lean back as far as he could.
"I've got forty years. Do you think I'm scared of a few weeks in the hole?" Caine leaned forward and violently slammed his hands on the armchairs until he was nose to nose with the terrified teen. "Five more years in my sentence?"
"Step back, Caine." Sergeant Smith said carefully. "I think the kid understands."
"Caine's passionate." Oscar spoke up as his fellow inmate returned to his seat. "I think he's got what psychological professionals would describe as anger issues. Say something wrong to him, and he'll turn your bones to dust."
"But deep down?" Oscar seemed to enjoy the attention he was receiving as he continued speaking. "The real reason he's here with you is because he wishes that someone had diverted him from this place. Not me, though! I'm here because it got me out of my cell. Plus it gives a glimpse of future prey."
"I want you guys to end up here." Oscar pointed a finger at each teen in rapid succession, like he was shooting a gun. "I'm going to be behind bars until I'm ninety, as long as I don't get caught blinding another inmate."
Caine laughed at that. These two were real monsters, but to him, Oscar was more dangerous than Caine. The older man seemed to have no remorse at all. He reminded him a bit of Rosalind.
"Which I will never do again, ma'am." Oscar stared at the warden, trying to look sincere but failing. "I have learned my lesson, honest to god."
"Don't talk to me, Oscar, talk to them." Warden Miller replied.
"Yes, Ma'am." The older inmate stood up and walked closer to the teens. "So you're the future inmates of America."
"Trust me, stay on that path." Oscar practically begged. "Do that. So you can end up here with me. How many criminals get away with their crimes, Officer Nolan?"
"Not many." Nolan replied.
"Why is that?"
"Because they're stupid."
"I'm not stupid." Oscar turned to John.
"No, but you lack impulse control." He answered, attracting the man's attention.
"Yes!" Oscar seemed delighted. "I do!"
The older inmate dragged his chair closer to the teens and sat back, staring at Duran. "What's your name?"
"Hector." The teen replied.
"Do you think you're a tough guy, Hector?" Oscar asked.
"I know I am."
"You're not." Oscar answered quickly. "Maybe you are, doesn't really matter. There's always somebody who's going to be tougher than you. Somebody willing to do what you won't do. Do you know that tough guys get shanked to death here every day?"
"Not me, though, because I'm not a tough guy. I'm a cockroach. I'll do whatever it takes to come out on top."
"This is not the right way to reach Hector." Nolan told the Warden. "I read in his file that his brother Thomas is incarcerated here."
"You think a family reunion will be more beneficial?" The warden seemed intrigued with the idea.
"I read both their files." Nolan explained. "Hector was a model citizen before his brother got arrested. He idolized him, but he hasn't visited in almost a year because Thomas refuses to see him. Maybe it's time for Hector to see how far his brother has fallen."
They took a break after that. The inmates were returned to their cells. Lisa Mays started interviewing the Warden about the program and its implementation. He leaned back against the wall and looked at his watch.
This was going to be a long day.
Zoe Andersen Routh
She had known Jack Routh for a year now, and in that time she had learned a few things about her husband.
He didn't like being confined in small areas for a long time. He once attended a seminar mandated by the department for all officers, and a few hours in, with a guest speaker speaking about diversity and tolerance, and she could see that her husband was bored and restless. She was not surprised that he took a long lunch break and returned only for the closing remarks.
Jack also liked to wander around and explore the city. He would park his bike somewhere and just walk. The man was eager to explore new areas and establishments and would only return home when the sun was setting.
He was also annoyingly observant, and with that, she knew it would be hard to throw him a surprise birthday party. Luckily, his birthday was on the 18th of December, and she had the perfect plan.
One message was all it took to get the operation going, and the rest of her group was excited and eager to participate. She wanted it to be extra special, to show her appreciation to her husband after his show of steadfast support and loyalty to her in front of her stepmother, Melissa.
Even just the memory of it now still affected her as her father's wife tried to destroy her self-esteem, but Jack changed that to a more positive note with his actions.
"I can't believe you're a Royal!" Melissa focused on Jack, her demeanor doing a 180 after the news broke out. Her father was unfortunately not present to control the older woman since he was busy answering calls from those involved after news of Jack's heritage broke to the public.
It was a surprise for her to learn some highly placed people in the government knew of Jack's past, and judging by the constant ringing of her father's land line phone as well as his mobile phone and beeper, those in the know wanted assurances that their names and reputations wouldn't get dragged through the mud after the fallout. Cowards.
"You're a fancy catch now." Melissa continued speaking, not caring that Jack wasn't even looking in her direction and that he was already married to her. Her poor husband was still processing the news about his past, and her stepmother was already discussing what he could do to take advantage of his newly discovered lineage.
"I have some connections to some exclusive social circles. I'm sure they'll be eager to invite you to one of their parties." Melissa sighed. "Have you met my niece? Her name's Amy, Amy Eliott. She's a widow, you know, but a very accomplished woman, an award-winning author and TV personality."
"Melissa." She couldn't believe the audacity of this woman. She had enough of the disrespect and stepped forward. "I don't think that's appropriate to discuss here. And remember, I'm Jack's wife."
"Please, Zoe." Her stepmother gave her a look of indifference. "We both know the real reason why Jack married you is for his career, and it's a real shame. You're still young, Jack, and I doubt Zoe here can provide you with a child. You're much better off finding a younger wife with the proper background."
She froze up when she heard that, but she snapped out of her growing anger when she heard Jack's voice.
"Let's get out of here." Jack stood up from his chair. "You don't deserve to be treated like this."
"Excuse me?"
"The harpy's voice is annoying." Jack shrugged, acting like they were alone in the room. "You know what they say about Harpies, they're the least intelligent mythological creature, and they have the worst memory. I thought they were just a myth until I visited your childhood home."
"How dare you…"
To her amazement, Jack ignored Melissa and grabbed her by the waist and pulled her closer to him. She felt him tilt her head up and kissed her, hard. She heard a gasp somewhere, but ignored it and focused on the kiss and molded her body to his. She just enjoyed the moment, feeling a wicked sense of vindictiveness rising within her to make out at her stepmother's fancy dining table without a care in the world.
By the time their impromptu make-out session ended, they were alone in the room.
"That was perfect." She grinned. What they did was what she knew was the ultimate fuck you to Melissa. Her stepmother hated being ignored and treated like a nobody. What Jack did was the best action he could possibly do in response to her provocation.
They had put on their coats when her father left his study and approached her.
"What did you do to Sally?" Her father asked, using his pet name for his wife. "She's in my study, crying."
"I just gave her a lesson in mythology." Her husband shrugged. "She must not have liked it."
Her ire was completely forgotten, and she was laughing as they left Fairfax County. To this day, she couldn't help but smile when she thought about that memory.
She returned to her work and started reviewing performance reports when an alert sounded in her office. She placed the report back down and checked her computer. There appeared to be a riot going on in the California Correctional Facility. Wait, that was where Jack was at the moment, as part of his light duties.
Her phone buzzed, and she read the text message from Jessica Cortez.
[TURN ON THE TV. KWLA, ASAP]
She fished out the remote control from the drawer and turned her TV on. Immediately, the familiar face of the KWLA anchor appeared, her hair in disarray, her eyes wide with fear.
"It's a full-blown riot in here!" The reporter was breathing hard. The camera panned back to the carnage that the woman was seeing. "Oh my god!"
She gasped at the sight of her husband, in the middle of a full brawl in a corridor. Jack was backed up by Nolan and one Corrections officer, but her man was taking the brunt of the attack from dozens of inmates.
The camera captured everything, and she tightened her grip on her desk as she watched Jack get punched, while two other men held his arms. He kicked the man attacking him and shook off the two men holding his arms with a display of strength. Thankfully, Nolan was there to subdue one of them, while the other was tackled by the other officer.
His hair was in disarray, and she could see blood trickling down the side of his head. A man with a broken piece of wooden furniture attempted to attack him, but he leaned back, avoiding the club, and grabbed the wrist of the attacker and pulled the club from his hands. He smashed it in two against his knee and wielded the two parts of the wooden club like batons in each hand.
She watched in amazement as her husband was able to take down inmate after inmate, with his new weapons, leaving injured bodies in his wake. He was merciless and lethal and created a path to the exit. Behind him, Nolan and the other officer followed in his wake, forming a vanguard while they made their way outside. The reporters and the teens stuck close to them, and she could see the scared faces on everyone's faces, especially the reporter's. She breathed a sigh of relief as the corrections officer opened a locked chain link gate and closed it behind them once their party got through.
"We made it." The reporter breathed a sigh of relief. She could see the woman's makeup was ruined as her mascara started to drip down her cheek from crying. "We're alive."
Light duty. Jack was supposed to be on light duty! She collapsed back on her chair and breathed a sigh of relief.
Lisa Mays
She'd never take assignments like this again, and screw the favor from the mayor's aide. She… she nearly died, and without the actions of the officers she accompanied to the Prison, she knew she'd suffer a terrible fate.
While her cameraman filmed the other inmates intimidating the kids by sharing horrible stories or making them do pushups, she wasn't blind to their stares, or deaf to not hear the comments they made about her.
There was a touching moment when one of the teens met his older brother, and they had a tearful reunion, her cameraman capturing precious footage for live TV. She knew their ratings would skyrocket, and this could be a regular gig for her instead of her usual spot at late night, covering recent crime and accidents in the city.
When the alarms started, she thought it was a routine thing, but she watched as the faces on the correction officers changed when the siren turned to three long bursts. The talkative inmate, Oscar, claimed there was a riot in progress.
To her credit, the Warden acted quickly, transferring the half a dozen inmates out of the room, and they were given quick instructions to head to the nearest exit as soon as possible. The only problem was that the warden didn't account for the fact that their escape route would pass by a cell block that was reported to be secured, but wasn't, as she even spotted a dead corrections officer lying on a pool of his own blood.
It was then that the quiet Jack Routh, yes, him, took action immediately. Earlier, she was thrilled to learn she was sitting with the elusive prince, the talk of the city for several days. It was nearly impossible to get an interview with him, and with him being a cop, tailing him while he was on duty was not a smart idea. His records were sealed, so they didn't know where he lived, only that he worked for the LAPD's Metro division.
To her disappointment, Jack Routh wasn't talkative when she initiated light conversation with him, and she really didn't know how to address him properly. He was a nephew to the king of the Netherlands, and his family was worth in the hundreds of billions, perhaps more if the rumors were true. She couldn't fathom why he was still working as a cop in one of the most dangerous cities in the country.
She was reminded that he was also a powerfully built man, and she was distracted by his gorgeous face that she only noticed his muscled form and broad back as he led them down a corridor where they were ambushed by a group of six inmates hiding in one of the rooms. They aimed for her, but Routh stopped them, taking some blows in the process, before he subdued them by knocking them out with John Nolan's help. She thought she was going to die and started to talk to the camera, hoping the guys at the station would alert the authorities to her current situation.
She watched in amazement as Routh took on the majority of the inmates that had just arrived at the end of the corridor, blocking their path to the exit and safety. He was brutal and merciless, his moves smooth and precise as he dealt debilitating damage to the inmates who attacked them. Then his efficiency increased when he had those two wooden clubs in each hand, and the way he moved reminded her of the introductory lessons in Kali she had taken a month ago, but his was much faster and deadlier. He was taking them apart so quickly. Suddenly, she felt that she wouldn't die, or worse, after all.
"You… you seeing this?" She whispered to her cameraman, Craig.
"Yeah… damn." Craig was a professional and was able to film their protectors while the teens kicked those already subdued on the ground.
She burst into fresh tears as they moved past the gate, just in time as a fresh wave of inmates poured out of the prison cells and into the yard. They hooted and yelled and tried to rattle the fence to no avail. She didn't care, they were finally safe, all thanks to Jack Routh.
"Thank you." She told him after he finished treating his own wounds.
"You're welcome, Ma'am, but it's our job to protect you." Jack Routh replied. She felt his eyes look over her and Craig, looking for any signs of injuries. The man nodded and started checking on the four teens that were now totally obedient, a far cry from the cocky attitude they had when they arrived at the facility that morning. Clearly, they had been impressed by Routh's actions and were now looking at the larger man in a new light.
"Well…" She turned to her cameraman, who had focused the lens on her. "It looks like these teens are scared straight."
Willem-Alexander of Orange-Nassau
"This is real?"
He watched as his nephew took on a dozen inmates without hesitation. He winced as he saw some blows land on Jacques, but he gave more punches than he received. The two other guards were able to support him somewhat until he managed to secure some crude weapons.
His efficiency is dispatching his opponents changed after that. The result was something even he had a difficult time watching. Broken bones, dislocated jaws, Jacques showed no hesitation. His nephew was a beast.
He was amazed at his efficiency, and looking around, he could see his staff and his guards were impressed at what they saw.
"It looks like he won't need a protection detail." His aide remarked, causing several of his guards and staff to nod in agreement.
"Call them in." It was finally time to get some answers. He was preparing a delegation to meet with his nephew, but first, he needed to understand what he had become, and those two were the ones capable enough to give an assessment. It was time for them to become useful after their government gave them new identities and a peaceful life in their country.
"Both of them?" His aide asked.
"Yes." He answered. "I don't care if he's meditating out in the woods in his log cabin, but I want him here to give an assessment."
"And Doctor Shearing?"
"Her input would be invaluable." And she was his bait to get Jack to come over. He knew the young man would not be able to resist learning more about what happened to him.
As soon as the DNA tests returned, he immediately released a statement, claiming kinship with Jacques-Henry, or Jack Routh as he preferred to be called, to protect him in case they thought about making his nephew vanish. By publicly recognizing him, he had given the young man his protection and a silent show of support, a gesture he was sure everyone would notice and pick up on.
He couldn't wait to meet the young man.
"See you soon, Jacques Routh."
Zoe Andersen Routh
She had been given orders after Jack's Royal Rumble, as the media were starting to call it to make sure her husband remained safe and out of danger for the immediate future, while the attention from the public was still high. It would be a nightmare scenario for nearly everyone involved if Jack got seriously injured due to his work.
She even received a letter from the State Department, strongly advising her to keep her husband on a tight leash, as if that were possible. She assigned Jack to desk duty, processing old case files and sorting them by date and importance. With only one shift today, she watched with some envy as her husband headed home to relax while she had to deal with the incoming rookies and who their training officers were. Her FTO pool was gutted, with Lopez getting promoted to detective. Bradford had a complicated schedule, juggling two roles, both for Metro and as the future FTO of Katie Barnes, who was already making waves in the academy as graduation grew near.
Harper was reliable, and she trusted the woman to be her second set of eyes in patrol. It was she who alerted her of Armstrong's moves after all.
As soon as her second shift ended, she rushed home, eager to see Jack again and enjoy some of his cooking. While not of Michelin restaurant quality, the servings he prepared were usually huge, and she had developed quite an appetite.
As the gate to their house swung open, she was not prepared for the mess that littered the front patio.
"What is this?" She asked once she got out of her car. Wooden beams and sawdust littered the ground, along with extension cords and power tools.
"We had some spare materials when we upgraded the bunker." Jack was a sweaty mess, with sawdust and sweat lining his face, neck, and arms.
"All that mess, for a swing?" She stared at the strange swing that was now under the large tree of their property. Unlike a regular, simple swing with two ropes hanging from each end, this one had four chain ropes bolted to the corners of a thick, solid wooden block that served as the seat.
"About that, watch this." Jack sat down on the swing, and with both hands, he started to pull on one set of the chains. To her surprise, he started moving up, bit by bit, with every pull of the rope. She followed where the chain ropes led, and her jaw dropped open when she saw the wooden platform secured between the main trunk of the tree and two of its thickest branches. It looked more like a tree stand for hunters, and she watched in amazement as Jack finally reached the wooden platform.
As soon as he stepped off, and was now twenty-five feet in the air, while the swing slowly lowered itself back.
"Neat, huh?" Jack called out. "I repurposed the chain hoist. What do you think?"
Her earlier frustration forgotten, she was intrigued by this new addition to their home. She followed Jack's actions, and though it required some upper-body strength, half a minute later, she was standing on the wooden platform.
She looked around and noticed that they were practically hidden from the street thanks to the thick leaves of the tree, but they had a perfect view of their property and outside of it. It was an excellent vantage position.
"Like it?" Jack wrapped his hands around her waist, and she didn't mind the dust that now stuck to her blouse and skirt. "I really outdid myself on this one."
"I love it." She admitted with a grin. Her husband looked really proud of his work. "But your ego is inflating your head."
"How about we mark this spot as well?" Jack suggested, and she immediately noticed the look of desire on her husband's face. The thought intrigued her, and she nodded and started to hike up her pencil skirt above her waist.
Jack as always, was insatiable, but then, she had the sex drive to match her husband.
"Keep the pace slow." She warned and got on her knees. She needed to keep Jack's dick well lubricated so that she could properly enjoy this new environment for sex.
Nikolaj Coster-Waldau
The script reading for season 7 had ended, and he left the room with mixed feelings. IT had been fun, but he knew everyone, especially the fans, would hate the ending. The lead character, Jon Snow, played by Kit Harrington, was stabbed by his fellow brothers of the Night's Watch, leaving his fate unclear. But they had no choice, as the two executive producers, David and Daniel, explained why they left it at that for the finale of the show.
They had no choice, as their scripts finally finished with the last book. They had no material left, and the two didn't want to make things up. The pressure was now on George, and hopefully it would encourage the eccentric writer to finish Winds of Winter.
He looked around and watched as his fellow cast and crew chatted and said their goodbyes. He was invited for a round of drinks by some of the cast members, but he declined, he had his own party to get to. The only problem was how to talk to the show runners and get their permission to wear one of his old costumes from season one of the show. He knew Jack and the others would get a kick out of seeing him in that armor.
"Not going to join the lads for a drink?" Lena appeared by his side.
"I have a party to get to. I just need to talk to David first." He replied to one of his closest friends on the show aside from Gwen.
"Is this about… that?" Lena lowered her voice and looked around, making sure they were out of hearing range.
"It's just a simple birthday party." He explained. He didn't know why Lena had to act all sneaky about his friends.
"Simple." Lena scoffed as she led him to the two show runners. "Yeah, right, if half the rumors I keep hearing about that Rosewood club of yours is true, you guys are practically running things in Hollywood."
"That's stupid." He replied. "We're just a bunch of friends who like what any celebrity dreams of, privacy.
"Just a bunch of friends." Lena smiled. "Sure. One of those friends is a global pop star."
"She's very down to earth and fun when you get to know her."
"And the other is a hidden Royal whose family is one of the most powerful and influential in the whole damn world." Lena added.
"You know his surname is Routh, right? Not Orange-Nassau."
"Nikolaj, Lena." David Benioff quickly noticed their arrival. "Something I can do for you? If this is about the script…"
"Not that." He quickly answered. "I was wondering if I could borrow one of the props? One of my older costumes from season 1."
"He's attending a birthday party." Lena explained.
"The Kingsguard armor with the white enamel?" Benioff asked.
The armor had several iterations through the years, and its design in season 7 had more brass on it than white, with the helm looking more intimidating than ever, with the narrow eye slits. It was completely impractical for actual combat, and he bumped into things when he wore the damn thing one time on a dare from Gwen.
"That's the one." He replied. "My friend, well, it's his birthday, and I figured appearing as a Kingsguard would make an impression."
"This friend of yours, it's Jack Routh, right? The one with royal lineage?" David asked.
"Yeah, so could I?" He asked.
"Let's go. I'm sure it's stored somewhere in the backrooms." David replied, causing him to sigh in relief. Now he wouldn't have to worry about his costume, and he had a high chance of winning the best costume. "I didn't know he watched the show."
"I made him watch it, and he grew to like it." He explained. "He's more into the science fiction genre, but he did enjoy comparing the plot on the show with actual medieval history."
"And guess who he found the most attractive on the show?" He turned to his friend.
"Who?" Lena asked. "Emilia? Or is it Carice?"
It was a good guess, since the two mentioned actresses were very popular, mostly due to the number of nude scenes they were in, especially in the earlier seasons.
"Nope, he said you were the most attractive," He laughed at Lena's puzzled face. "I'm not joking."
"Man has taste." David laughed. "Excellent choice, if you ignore the cruelty and the incest."
"Why don't you come with me?" He suggested to his friend. "I'm sure they'll enjoy your company."
"Are you sure?" Lena asked.
"Pretty sure." He replied. "They're the most normal people you'll ever meet, trust me on that."
"Okay." Lena smiled.
"Then you need a costume as well." David stated. "Luckily, those two are stored in the wardrobe department near each other."
David had come through for them, big time. He even asked some of the make-up artists to help him and Lena get into their costumes, and he only asked that he be shown pictures from the party. Lena was relieved that she didn't have to wear her blonde wig and chose one of the more comfortable gowns from season 2 with the elaborate Lannister Lion embroidery.
"This is surreal." His TV show sister giggled in nervous laughter as they headed to the address Taylor had sent to the group chat. For such a domineering character in the show, he found Lena to be Cersei's exact opposite, shy, an introvert, and she did not like to be the center of attention.
"Are you sure it's okay for me to be tagging along?" Lena asked for the tenth time on their way to the venue. It was quite far, the directions on the app showing them that they would soon cross the city's boundary.
"Relax, Lena." He answered. "I already told Jack's wife, Zoe, and she says she couldn't wait to meet you. You'll like her."
"She's the police captain, right?" Lena asked.
"She is." He nodded. "That's why they have to keep their address strictly private, due to the nature of their work."
"You think he'll sing one his songs?"
"You never know." He replied. "Jack's a very spontaneous guy."
Jack Routh
Something was not right. Zoe said she was in the gun range with Pam and Liz, but it was too dark now to properly use the firing range, unless they meant to use the shorter range for handguns. His wife left pretty early too, and she just gave him a quick kiss as soon as he returned from the station.
Still, it was nice to ride his bike again as he drove around the city. At a stoplight, he returned a nod of greeting from a fellow rider. With how loud bike engines were, the biker community had developed its own pseudo-language that consisted of head tilts and hand gestures to communicate with each other during traffic. The other rider's bike was sweet, a black and red Kawasaki Z900RS.
He soon reached the road leading to John Martin's firing range, and fifteen minutes later, he arrived at the parking lot. He was surprised at how full it was and spotted familiar cars on the lot.
The old gunnery sergeant was even waiting for him, and quickly guided him to the entrance of the shop as soon as he parked his bike.
"So, is it some sort of training class?" He joked at the older man.
"You'll see, son." Martin led him to the back door, and once he stepped through, he was assaulted by pops of confetti.
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"
He took one step back in surprise. The rifle range had transformed, with several tents erected in the middle. Above, several string lights illuminated the whole grounds in a soft yellow light, giving a magical feel to the place. Everywhere he looked, familiar faces greeted him, and they were all wearing some sort of medieval costume. The whole thing looked like an elaborate Renaissance fair.
His wife wore a princess costume, showing some impressive cleavage. She was not alone. Taylor and Jessica wore similar gowns. Liz was showing off a tavern girl's costume, complete with puffy white sleeves. Even Howard was present, wearing a typical jester's outfit.
"Your grace."
He turned to the side and laughed as Nikolaj made an appearance, his Kingsguard armor standing out with how elaborate and authentic it looked.
"Uhhh… Thank you, everyone." He told the crowd of well-wishers. "You really caught me by surprise."
He didn't even realize today was his birthday. Wow. He realized he hadn't celebrated his birthday ever in this world, the date of his birth was just something to fill in information sheets for college and the academy.
"Happy birthday, husband." Zoe gave him a quick kiss, earning a round of applause from everyone. This was a surreal feeling. He felt a strange sensation in his chest.
"So this was what you've been working on for the past couple of days?" He asked his wife.
"Don't you know how hard it is to plan a birthday for someone like you?" Zoe complained. "Any mistake or slip up, and you'll pick up on it like a bloodhound. I had to keep you in the dark as much as possible."
"It worked!" Taylor laughed as she engulfed him in a hug that he quickly returned. "We totally surprised you!"
"You did!" He smiled at the tall blonde. He quickly moved to each guest, expressing his gratitude for their being here. Everyone he knew was here, from the close friends he had at Mid-Wilshire to his squad in Metro. Howard and his buddies were present with Penny, with Sheldon wearing a friar's brown robe.
"I believe you know who this is." Nikolaj was grinning as he introduced him to a face he'd seen on the TV.
"Queen Cersei." He greeted the woman.
"Just Lena, please." The brunette smiled. "Happy Birthday!"
"Thank you." He replied with a smile. The woman was as pretty off-screen as she was on screen, though her demeanor was vastly different from what she portrayed on the show. He was impressed, that was the mark of a talented actress.
Taylor Swift
"That's so unfair!" She complained and compared her robes to the Lannister Twins' elaborate costumes. "At this rate, one of them will win best costume!"
"You didn't specify where the costume had to come from." Jessica replied.
"That's it, next time I'll get a top-notch costume department to do my costume." She stated.
Still, she was in good spirits. The party she and Zoe planned had turned into a resounding success. This shooting range was the ideal location, since it was far enough from the city to have complete privacy, and the field was big enough that the catering crews had no issues setting up the food stations.
She was excited when Zoe first asked for help setting up this surprise party. She knew Jack was very observant, so she purposely kept her distance despite wanting to talk to him about the revelations about his past. She cried when she heard how he was lost in the system at such a young age, but she was glad his family was now reaching out to him.
His appeal as Sugar increased with this revelation, and she knew as soon as his album was released this Christmas, sales would skyrocket. Her label would also earn a good amount of profit. She couldn't wait, there were only a few more days to go.
She looked around the party she helped plan. Jack was, as usual, camping beside the grill station, wolfing down steaks. Her friend must have been hungry with how he demolished his food. She liked this kind of party, all of the guests were people she recognized by face, even Sheldon, who stood out with his costume. The large wooden crucifix hanging from his neck was certainly eye-catching.
The Police Officers seemed to be enjoying the venue and food, as they sat down on the numerous bean bags she had placed all over the field. Zoe said Jack didn't like formal parties, and she figured this was a nice way to make things more fun for his birthday party. It looked like a hit, and all of the bean bags were occupied by satisfied-looking guests.
"Why did I throw my old bean bag?" Liz collapsed beside her in her own bean bag. "This is wonderful. You're a genius, Taylor."
"Thanks." She grinned.
"You may have started a trend here." Liz laughed. "A bean bag party will be a hit."
She was feeling down lately, but planning for Jack's birthday party was a good distraction. Her love life was painfully nonexistent, and she had a dilemma about what she wanted for the direction of her career.
She couldn't just pop out albums every few years, she knew she'd burn out, and the last thing she wanted to do was to release a crappy album. She wanted a break from making music and to take things slow for once. Not all of her family and friends agreed with her decision.
She was in a slump, and she needed some inspiration for what to do with her life. Maybe she could pick up a hobby like painting or even traveling. She certainly had the funds and means to travel in comfort.
"That was a good chicken salad." Zoe sat down on her other side. Her friend had a good appetite lately and always polished her plate whenever they went out.
A cheer in the distance attracted her attention, and she realized the karaoke stage was being used. Lucy, if she remembered correctly, started belting out I Never Loved a Man by Aretha Franklin, a classic. It was a difficult song, and she was impressed by Lucy's range.
"That's why we don't have a karaoke competition in the station." Zoe shook her head. "That girl would always be the reigning champion."
"Unless Jack decides to join it." She added.
Speaking of Jack, her smile widened when she spotted him heading to the karaoke booth, encouraged by his swat friends. She didn't have to tell the others, as one, they all moved closer to hear the celebrant perform. Was he about to perform one of his older songs? Or is this a new composition? She didn't know. She only knew one thing, she felt incredibly lucky to be here at this moment. Every Sugar performance was special after all.
The crowd let out a cheer as Jack stood on the stage and took out one of the acoustic guitars on display in the background. They were all tuned, and she made sure of that, in case Jack was in a mood to sing, and it looked like her preparations had paid off.
"This song's a bit personal." Jack told the group. He didn't use the microphone, with the crowd being so small and his voice easily reaching even those at the back, thanks to their isolated venue.
"Actually, my wife Zoe helped to compose this song, even if she didn't know it back then." Jack added.
More than a few faces turned to Zoe, but the woman looked confused.
"This is called Don't look back in Anger." Jack gave his wife a nod, and she saw the moment the woman realized what Jack was talking about.
"We just visited my family." Zoe explained, disbelief written all over her face. "Things didn't go well with my stepmother, Melissa. I didn't know he made a song about that."
[Noel Gallagher – Don't Look Back in Anger (Acoustic Rare 1995)]
He started strumming the guitar, and as soon as the notes reached their eyes, they all erupted in applause. The melody was slow and simple, but had a relaxing quality and feel to it.
Slip inside the eye of your mind,
Don't you know you might find…
A better place to play?
You said that you'd never been,
But all the things that you've seen
They slowly fade away…
They lyrics were so beautiful. She was instantly mesmerized by Jack's performance. Those lyrics were just immaculate.
So I start a revolution from my bed
Cause you said the brains I had went to my head
Step outside, summertime's in bloom…
Stand up beside the fireplace,
Take that look from off your face,
You ain't ever gonna burn my heart out….
She felt her heartbeat getting faster as she started breathing harder. She could sense the chorus coming up, and she couldn't wait to hear the climax of this wonderful, wonderful song. Jack's vocals elevated the amazing lyrics to another level.
And so… Sally can wait,
She knows it's too late, as we're walking on by…
Her soul… slides away,
But don't look back in anger,
I heard you say.
"Incredible." She breathed out. She looked to the side and saw Zoe trying to dry her tears with a tissue but failing. Jack even started plucking, showing mastery of the guitar as he added distinct delicate notes to the mesmerized audience.
Take me to the place where you go,
Where nobody knows, if it's night or day
Please don't put your life in the hands
Of a rock and roll band
Who'll throw it all away
Jack started singing the pre-chorus once more, and she yearned to learn the lyrics, wanting so badly to sing in concert with her friend.
So I start a revolution from my bed
Cause you said the brains I had went to my head…
Step outside, summertime's in bloom…
Stand up beside the fireplace,
Take that look from off your face,
Cause you ain't ever gonna burn my heart out….
This time more than one voice started singing with Jack. She was one of them.
And so… Sally can wait,
She knows it's too late, and she's walking on by
My soul… slides away,
But don't look back in anger,
I heard you say.
By the time he started singing the chorus again, nearly everyone was singing with him. So simple and beautiful were his lyrics that they were easily memorized, probably etched deeply into the hearts of everyone present.
And so… Sally can wait,
She knows it's too late, as we're walking on by
Her soul… slides away,
But don't look back in anger,
I heard you say.
And so… Sally can wait,
She knows it's too late, as she's walking on by
My soul… slides away,
But don't look back in anger,
don't look back in anger,
I heard you say.
At least not today.
As soon as he stopped playing applause broke out, and a few even whistled their appreciation for Jack's performance.
"So… this is Sugar." She heard an unfamiliar voice and realized it was Lena Headey standing near her with Nikolaj at her side.
"I told you, he'll always surprise us with something." Nikolaj grinned. "Aren't you glad I invited you to tag along?"
She focused back on Jack as he took off the guitar and headed towards them. No one seemed eager to sing on the karaoke just after he performed, but that was okay. She, no, all of them needed to absorb that performance, and loud music would just distract them.
That was one of the most beautiful, haunting songs she had ever heard. It spoke about separation and moving on, and one glance at Zoe and her teary look, it looked like the reunion with Melissa, or Sally, as Jack mentioned her in the song, didn't end amicably.
While Jack created that song for his wife, it reached her on some deeper level within her. This was the inspiration she was searching for, the spark she needed to decide on her life, not just her musical career.
Resentment and bitterness had no place in her heart, despite the lack of support from her friends and family about her latest decisions. No, she would just focus on moving forward and not follow what was expected of her. She would take a break. She deserved that at the very least. She would return to creating music when she was damn good and ready, and not before.
Bailey Nune
Monstermash's latest award-winning single blared out across the staging area, and it provided a boost of confidence in her squad of six. They had already defeated the representatives from the Sheriff's County and the guys from Fire Station 41 from West Hollywood. It was a long, hard road to get them to their final opponent for the year, and a lot was riding on it.
Her station was champion for two years, and no one had ever gotten a three-peat before. If they won this, they would make history and earn bragging rights.
"We're going to fuck 'em up." Drake, his team captain and fellow firefighter at station 29, gathered them around to boost their confidence. News that Metro had joined the competition rattled them at first, but after consecutive wins, their confidence came back. Now, they were facing their most challenging opponents to date, Hondo and his squad.
She was excited. The guys had contributed to getting their new gear, customized for paintball. Drake proposed it, and they all immediately fell in love with the idea. Wearing customized clone armor for their last match of the year? It was a no-brainer.
Now, despite some discomfort digging into her chest and neck, she wore her clone armor with pride. She could see the other groups giving them admiring looks, and she could see the way her guys preened at the attention they were given.
"That's so sick!" One of the guys from Station 67 approached them. "Where did you get them?"
"Drake met a guy at a cosplay convention." She answered. "Do you think it's intimidating?"
"Of course!" Her fellow firefighter replied. "I bet the instant those bozos see what you guys are wearing, they'll lose their morale."
"That's what we're hoping for." Drake laughed.
They took off their helmets for the moment. Despite the vents designed in it, it allowed for little air circulation. At least the clear lens had an anti-fog coating, like the fabricator bragged. That was far better than the traditional goggle that fogged up whenever she breathed too hard.
The paintball marshals were huddled in a group, their high viz jackets making them stand out in the staging area. They were all waiting for the challengers to the defending champions of the Splatter Cup. This year was different, with the tournament organizers deciding to use the forest area usually reserved for airsoft competition.
It was larger than the usual paintball arena by a factor of two, and that meant more ground to cover. There were still inflatable barriers put in place, but this time, there were more places to take cover, bushes, trees, and large rocks. They had to be careful and needed more padding, and that was why they decided to splurge a little and acquire these modified clone armors. They had a thicker lining and protected every part of her body. She had no issue crawling on her belly with this gear protecting her from scratches.
The music in the speakers faded, and another song started playing. She didn't know if it was done on purpose or not, but she had to admit it was very effective, and she got intimidated by what she saw.
As AC/DC's Back in Black opening riff started playing, Metro appeared, and it was not what she expected.
"What the hell…" She heard Drake mutter.
A squad of six armored figures, their golden visors gleaming in the sun, appeared in the staging area and headed towards them. Their armor was very elaborate, and as they moved closer, her sharp eyes picked up more details in their armor. They were finely crafted, and each piece looked like it was custom-made for the person wearing it. She spotted one that was obviously a woman based on her shape, but the way the armor moved and shifted with her completely blew her away. She, in her heavily customized clone armor, suddenly felt inadequate.
"Spartans. We're facing the Spartans. Fuck." She heard one of her team members curse out loud.
At the back, an absolute unit of a man in armor completed the group. His outfit seemed to be the most detailed, and the paint job was immaculate. It looked like he had taken care to make it look like his armor had seen action in the desert, while the others still looked pristine. The weathering effect looked so good.
"Where are their guns?" Drake asked.
As if hearing his question, their opponents answered by reaching behind them, again showing how flexible their suits were compared to theirs, and pulled out the standard paintball guns. They looked tiny compared to the armor they were all wearing.
"Shit, they're magnetized too? Where did they get that gear?" Drake complained.
Once their opponents were closer, she spotted the etched name on their breastplates. She zeroed in on the leader. Hondo-967.
She felt conflicted at that moment. On one hand, she felt apprehensive at facing the challengers with this kind of quality gear, and on the other hand, she wanted to fan girl and ask for selfies. Halo night was a popular pastime in the station, and it felt like she was meeting the characters on the screen in real life.
The tournament officials approached them, and she didn't fail to notice how their eyes were locked into Hondo's group and what they were wearing.
Hondo took off his helmet, revealing a smiling face. She was surprised he was not sweating, unlike her. She didn't understand how, since their costumes looked like they were thicker and covered more skin than theirs.
They all listened to the safety briefing and the rules laid out for the championship round. It was a best-of-three, with a team death match scenario. That meant they had to eliminate all the enemy players, with the last team standing winning. They quickly got into position, and Drake decided on three pairs on each lane to probe their enemy's strategies and to try and exploit any weakness.
At the start of the whistle, they all ran to their assigned areas. The battle had begun.
The first round was brutal. It lasted for more than five minutes, but she was able to hit one of the flankers. It was close, but they got swept away in the end by a surprise flanking maneuver from the big guy of the enemy group and his female partner, and they were completely pinned down. Their level of coordination was insane.
"We need to adjust our strategy." She suggested during the break period. She was sweating like a pig, and those bits of plastic were getting annoying whenever she moved to a crouched position.
"Let's attack from the right." Drake suggested. "We'll leave one man to pin them down on the left and the middle while four of us rush the right."
"Let's do that." There was a reason Drake was their leader.
"Remember, conserve your ammo, but don't be too shy about it." Drake added.
The second round was frustrating. Their attack was halted immediately, as Hondo's squad responded quickly to the rushing attack, and they were already pinned down by a crossfire from two positions.
Drake was eliminated when he tried to roll and dive to another cover but slipped on the loose soil and got exposed. She watched as his leader cursed and slowly walked out of the field with his hand and gun up in the air, indicating that he was eliminated. Their opponents were amazing marksmen and used fewer rounds compared to them.
They were slowly being picked apart, one by one. It hurt to see now, as she felt beads of sweat reach her eyes.
"Behind us!"
She felt and heard the impact of paintballs on her armor. It sounded like hail hitting her car's windshield. Fuck. She watched as the rest of her team got caught in a crossfire. One by one, they all fell to the storm of paintballs. She heard a loud whistle, telling her that the round was over.
They lost, but at least she wouldn't have bruises this time.
"Sorry, Bailey." One of her teammates apologized. His camo armor was littered with orange paint splats, even his helmet. "I got overrun on the left by that big guy. He's deceptively fast for his size."
So that was how they lost. The big guy of Hondo's group just barreled past their guard and flanked them from the rear. She removed her helmet and sighed in relief upon feeling fresh air hit her face. Her helmet was too stifling and hot for a full match, especially when she was running around the field, taking cover, and shooting back at her opponents.
"Good game." Hondo removed his helmet as well, followed by the others. Annoyingly, they all looked fine, not even a bead of sweat on their faces.
"Thanks. Do you have air conditioning on those fancy suits?" She joked.
"Sort of." Hondo laughed. Wait, she was just joking about that!
"Where did you get that fancy gear?" Drake asked.
"We had it custom-made by a brilliant engineer." The metro sergeant replied. "Totally worth it, despite the price tag."
She didn't even want to ask how much those things cost. It must have been a thousand dollars at the very least.
The ceremony was simple as Hondo accepted the Splatter Cup Trophy. It was a damn shape, the design for this year was well made by a local artist who used brass as his material and shaped it like a figure running with its paintball gun aimed at an unseen enemy.
"We're taking out your group for drinks later tonight." Hondo added. "Gilligan's bar at eight, if you're interested."
That was a generous offer, and she and her team didn't see any reason to reject the sergeant's offer.
"We'll be there." Drake nodded. "Thanks, Hondo."
She was wiping her face with a towel, when she heard an argument from her teammates.
"That's him, right?"
"Nah, couldn't be! That guy was too big to be some sort of royal."
"Have you met Routh in person?"
"You're talking about that guy?" She knew about the famous LAPD cop. Everyone knew, but she had followed his career ever since he stopped that school shooter. Her interest in the cop only grew after she watched him on the Survival Show. Routh was very easy on the eyes, especially without a shirt, but she was more impressed with his bushcraft skills. She tried to recall his face and realized that it was indeed him!
"Yeah, the one that rushed me and got behind your position." One of her teammates answered. "I'm pretty sure it was him, I even saw the name JACK etched on his armor."
"I should have asked for a selfie!" Damn! Why didn't she recognize him right away?
"We all know you're obsessed with that survival show, Bailey." Drake laughed. "Don't worry. I'm sure you'll get a chance later tonight when we meet up with them."
"Don't forget to ask for an autograph!" One of her teammates joked. "You listen to his music, right? Are you going to tear up again over that song? What is it called?"
"I think it's called Payphone." Drake answered.
"Fuck you guys." She gave them a middle finger.
She loved that song since it helped her process through some difficult emotions, thanks to her past. She was eager to meet Jack Routh properly, and not in the midst of a paintball battle.
Hours later, at Gilligan's bar and she was disappointed when she saw that he wasn't present. Apparently, he had a date with his wife that night. Oh well, maybe she could get his autograph when they meet in the next paintball battle. She would need to get revenge for this morning's match.
Defeat tastes more bitter than the beer she was currently drinking.
Jack Routh
They could tell him all about the statistics on the dangers of driving a bike. The feeling of the engine purring, the rush of air, the view, and his wife hugging him as she sat behind him, he believed there was no better mode of transportation on the road that could be better than this.
They had been going out more for dinner lately, and Zoe started developing strange urges. Tonight, she wanted smoked salmon and cream cheese and a picnic by the beach, but once they got there, she didn't like the smell of the ocean and they had to find a new spot.
He finally found a suitable spot by the Griffith Observatory, and he was relieved when Zoe liked the location.
A picnic blanket, a couple of bottles of water, and a pair of sandwiches with smoked salmon with cream cheese, and their picnic date was finally ready.
"How did you find this place?" Zoe asked while she started eating her sandwich.
"I met the observatory guard during an operation with Metro." He replied. "He told me he wouldn't mind if I came here with a date. He said that he'd prefer that to chasing a bunch of teenagers doing crazy shit in the dark."
"That's nice of him. He even turned on the lights for us." Zoe grinned. "So, ready for the meeting with the ambassador?"
The new ambassador of the Netherlands to the country was recently appointed, and ever since his uncle announced their connection, he had been expecting some form of communication. The new representative of his family's country recently called the department and wanted to set up a meeting.
Luckily, he had a lot of free time with his Light duties, and lunch was planned for one of the more fancy restaurants.
"There's nothing to prepare for that meeting." He replied. "It's not an official meeting between representatives of two countries. I'm sure he will just relay some messages from my uncle and maybe establish a line of communication with them."
"What if they invite you to visit their country?" Zoe asked.
"That depends on you." He answered. "I wouldn't go if you're not coming."
"Hmmmm." Zoe looked thoughtful for a moment. "We could visit some notable cities while we're there."
"Whatever you want." He replied. "We could do a quick visit, or even tour the country. We need to brush up at least on your language lessons."
Zoe was a good and diligent student, and she picked up the basics pretty quickly in his opinion. What she now needed was practice, lots and lots of practice. Only then would she develop the confidence to speak the language fluently. She had even involved her friends with it, and he would sometimes find her speaking broken French with Reese or Pam, or even Jessica and Mary Elizabeth whenever they visited. They would laugh at their own mistakes and pronunciation, but would still continue trying to speak French with each other.
It was a sight to see a group of grown women, some drunk, trying to speak French with each other while watching French art films, while trying to guess the plot. He had to admit, it was an effective approach to learning another language.
"What about you?" He asked his wife. "Who do you think will replace Coleman?"
"Commander West is still everyone's favorite." She shared. "Other candidates simply do not have the support he has. His no-nonsense approach is very popular, especially after what happened with the current chief, who introduced a lot of controversial policies, and I'm not just talking about her targeted harassment of me and Jessica."
"What else did she do?"
"She brought in self-appointed experts from those special interest groups to teach K-9 handlers how to train their partners." Zoe scoffed at the idea. "As if they knew more about raising and training a police K-9, just because they have a little Chihuahua in their home that knows how to sit and play dead."
"She also tried to change the menu in the Central cafeteria and tried to remove meat options." Zoe added. "That received a lot of push back, and she had to drop that after her own pet officers stopped eating with her during lunch."
"So, she's just waiting to retire at this point?" He asked.
"Making sure she would be able to collect the maximum benefits of her pension as a former Chief of Police." His wife answered. "She's just decoration at this point. The senior brass now holds meetings without her and sets policy for the entire department. We're all just waiting for her to leave."
"What a pitiful end to a pitiful woman." He noted. The woman's term was now remembered for a series of controversies and failures. She was constantly criticized by the media, and even Stevens described to reporters in an interview that the fiasco with Alex Montel was a failure in leadership in the department. He didn't outright call for her resignation since the woman still had some supporters in the special interest groups and non-profit advocacy groups.
"And we'll prepare for the new batch of rookies this January." Zoe added. "Be sure to treat them well."
"Anyone that stands out?" He asked.
"I'm having Tim look over one recruit, Katie Barnes. A special case, and he said he would need your assistance."
"Military background?" There was only one reason his wife would specifically assign a rookie to Tim Bradford.
He knew that the veteran T.O. was undergoing training and qualifications in Metro and would eventually join up with him to be Mid-Wilshire's rapid response tactical unit, along with two others.
If Tim was assigned and even wanted him to help look out for the incoming rookie, then that meant she came from the same background as Bradford. Looking at his wife, he knew she had a soft spot for ex-military who joined the force.
"I'll keep an eye on her." He promised.
"You'll do more than that." His wife replied. "On the one or two days of the week that Tim's not available because of his Metro duties, rather than passing her around to other training officers, I'll have her assigned to patrol with you."
"I'm not a training officer." He pointed out.
"No, but you already have a wealth of experience under your belt. You're a P2 six months longer than Nolan or Chen." Zoe explained. "One more year and you can get that P3 patch on your shoulder."
"Think of it as training if you ever want to be a training officer." His wife must have sensed his reluctance.
"Alright." He finally agreed after a moment. It was just one day a week anyway, and the bulk of the training was still on Tim's shoulders.