Chapter 80 – "Partnership Redefined"
Mid-Wilshire Police Station – 7:08 AM
The Los Angeles sun filtered through the large windows of the station's meeting area. A light morning mist still hung outside, but inside the building the atmosphere was one of mild excitement and anticipation. Officers came and went, the sound of boots echoed down the hallway, coffee machines hummed rapidly.
Gustavo was already at his desk, organizing his equipment: utility belt, holster, radio, clipboard. His Glock, perfectly clean and adjusted, with its holographic sight and tactical flashlight.
He wore his impeccable uniform as always, his shirt slightly rolled up at the sleeves, and his expression focused. There was something different in the air, something he couldn't yet name, but he felt... as if something was about to change.
Across the room, Lopez appeared with two cups of coffee. One for her, black, strong, and unsweetened. The other, with a hint of vanilla—for Gustavo, as he always liked.
"Guess who's finally no longer a recruit?" she said with a wide, proud smile.
Gustavo looked up, taking the glass.
"Seriously..."
She held out a laminated sheet.
It was the official memorandum signed by Captain Anderson and Sergeant Grey. The paper said everything he needed to see:
"As of this date, April 7th, Officer Gustavo Silva is promoted to the status of Independent Officer, with all the duties and responsibilities that accompany such a rank."
Gustavo read the words calmly, then closed his eyes for a brief moment, absorbing the impact.
"It's official, then."
Angela gave him a light celebratory slap on the shoulder.
"Congratulations, rookie. I mean... not so rookie now."
He laughed, shaking his head.
— "God, I'm going to miss hearing you call me rookie all the time."
— "Yeah. But don't think that makes you invincible. I'm still quicker on the draw."
Gustavo gave a lopsided smile.
— "We can test that today."
Captain Anderson's Office – 7:32 AM
The Captain was behind her desk, observing the day's activity while checking reports on her tablet. Seeing Gustavo and Angela approaching, she immediately stood up, maintaining a serious expression, but with a proud gleam in her eyes.
— "Silva. Lopez. Come in."
They complied. The captain crossed her arms, then uncrossed them—a rare gesture for her, a sign that she was fighting a surge of pride.
"Officer Silva, I'm impressed with your track record. You've been through it all. Patrol, Talia's case, the internal affairs investigation, the court, your SWAT work, the training... and you never lost focus. You're exactly the kind of officer this city needs."
Gustavo nodded respectfully.
"Thank you, ma'am. I just did my job."
"You did more than that. And now, as an Independent Officer, you'll have the autonomy to act without direct supervision. But you still have a lot to offer... and to learn. I hope you continue to be a role model."
Lopez smiled and added:
"But you won't get away from me that easily. We'll continue patrolling together, as partners."
The captain nodded.
"Approved. You two have a clear synergy, and the city benefits from it."
In the garage – 8:10 AM
The black and white patrol car, number 521, was gleaming after its morning wash. Gustavo and Angela reviewed their checklist before leaving. Their weapons were clean, their radios working, the onboard computer on and synchronized.
"So, Officer Silva..." Angela said, getting into the driver's seat this time. "How does it feel to finally be one of us?"
Gustavo buckled up, smiling calmly.
"Like this is where I've always belonged. And like this is just the beginning."
Angela looked at him seriously for a second.
"You know... not everyone makes it this far. Some break down. Others don't have the nerve. But you got through it all with grace."
"It's because I had the best TO in Los Angeles."
She winked.
"You know I'll hold you to that when I get you into trouble, right?"
He laughed.
"I'm counting on it."
Patrol – 9:15 AM
The morning was calm, the streets of Wilshire were busy as usual, but without any major incidents. Gustavo and Angela drove with the windows half-rolled down, chatting about future possibilities.
"Have you thought about taking the detective courses?" she asked.
"Yes. But now that I'm an independent officer, I want to spend some time on the streets. Get a feel for the city. Maybe in a year."
"Fair enough. But when you do, let me know. I want to recommend you straight to vice or narcotics."
"Vice, huh? I bet you just want to see me undercover in a suit."
Angela laughed out loud.
"Imagine you trying to look like a street thug. With that Harvard accent."
"Hey, I can be convincing. Give me a day in the hood and I'll get you two arrests."
"Let me see, Silva. I'm watching."
Radio Call – 10:47 AM
"521, we have a possible 415 at Vermont and 7th. Witnesses say there's a man arguing with a woman, appearing aggressive."
Angela picked up the radio.
"This is 521, on the way. ETA three minutes."
She looked at Gustavo.
"Time to show you're truly independent."
He smiled.
"Let's get to work."
Incident Scene – 10:52 AM
They arrived quickly. A tall man with a torn shirt appeared agitated, yelling at a woman near the entrance of a convenience store.
Gustavo got out of the car first, keeping his hand close to his gun, but maintaining a non-aggressive posture.
"Sir! Los Angeles Police. Stay where you are."
The man hesitated. The woman hurried back, startled.
Angela positioned herself at the rear, scanning the surroundings.
"Check his hands for objects," she whispered into the radio.
Gustavo slowly advanced.
"Sir, I'm asking you to put your hands on your head. Now."
The man hesitated, but complied. Gustavo handcuffed him skillfully, maintaining clear and constant communication.
When they finished loading the man into the patrol car, Angela patted him on the back.
"You handled it like a veteran. Seriously... are you sure you just became an independent officer?"
He laughed, taking off his sunglasses.
"You can ask the SWAT guys. I think I've been ready for a while."
Back at the station – 1:10 PM
As they entered the front door, officers who were off-duty or on internal duty greeted them. Gustavo was now an equal. One of the real deal.
Talia Bishop was one of the first to meet him.
"Congratulations, Silva. You deserved every second of it."
"Thanks, Bishop. And if you need legal defense again, just call."
Tim Bradford appeared right behind him.
"Hey, now that you're no longer an OT, you're free to cover shifts with me every now and then."
Angela turned around.
"No way, Bradford. He's still my partner."
The group laughed.
Captain's Office – 4:02 PM
At the end of the shift, Gustavo was called back to Captain Anderson's office. She was with Sergeant Grey, who was looking at a screen with the performance data of all the rookies promoted in recent years.
"Silva, your name is already at the top," the sergeant said, pointing.
The captain stood.
"And we have plans for you. Not immediately, but... you better start thinking about where you want to be in two, three years. Because you have the potential to be much more than a patrolman."
Gustavo nodded humbly.
"I want to keep learning. And I want to help whoever comes after me."
Grey smiled.
"That's the right attitude."
End of shift – 5:28 PM
Outside the police station, the sun was beginning to set, casting a golden light over the parked cars.
Gustavo and Angela walked together to their vehicles. She looked at him for a moment.
"You know... I've had a few rookies over the years. But none of them have made me as proud as you."
He smiled, touching her shoulder with camaraderie.
"That means a lot to me, Lopez. And just for the record... now that we're equals, I'll buy the coffee tomorrow."
She laughed.
"You can start paying today."
Chapter 81 – "Legacy in the Making"
Mid-Wilshire Police Station – Captain Anderson's Office | 8:07 AM
The Los Angeles morning breeze wafted through the cracks in the Captain's half-open office window. The sky was already turning blue beyond the buildings and palm trees, with the distant sound of sirens mingling with the coming and going of cars on La Brea Avenue.
Gustavo knocked on the door with three firm knocks.
"Excuse me."
"Come in, Officer Silva," Captain Anderson said, looking up from her tablet.
Inside the office, Sergeant Grey was also present, leaning against the side of the desk with his arms crossed. Their expressions were neutral, professional, but there was a restrained gleam in their eyes—something was about to be proposed.
Gustavo entered and closed the door behind him. His uniform was impeccable, his posture straight, and he had the look of someone ready for whatever was needed.
"Captain. Sergeant."
"Silva," Grey began directly, "you've made exemplary progress. From your first day until your promotion to independent officer. And we're not the only ones who've noticed."
The captain continued.
"The LAPD Academy staff contacted us. They've been following your internal classes—the ones you taught to volunteer officers and the feedback has been exceptional."
Gustavo arched an eyebrow curiously.
"The Academy? I thought it was just an internal division thing."
Anderson nodded with a slight smile.
"Normally it would be. But you have something different, Gustavo. Your knowledge isn't just practical, it's technical and tactical. You have a solid legal foundation, high-level tactical experience, and now, recognition within the department."
Grey added, pulling out a folder bearing the LAPD crest.
"The Academy would like to extend a formal invitation to teach classes on your days off patrol. It wouldn't be a time off, but an extension of your service."
Gustavo remained silent for a moment, absorbing the information.
"Classes in what, exactly?"
The captain picked up a tablet and turned the screen to him. There was a list of modules:
Basic and Advanced Criminal Procedures for Patrol Officers
Selection and Use of Personal Equipment in Urban Policing
Combat APH and Pre-Hospital Care in Hot Zones
Individual and Paired Tactical Conduct
Interaction with Federal Forces and Interagency Coordination
Gustavo read each item, with a slight whistle of admiration.
"All this... I can teach?"
"Not only can you, but you should," Grey said. "The new cadets need someone who's actually seen the field and understands both sides of the law the letter and the action."
The captain added:
"And you're a clear example of how knowledge, discipline, and human touch build a good police officer. We want you to help shape the next ones."
Gustavo took a deep breath.
"I accept."
"Even with your days off cut in half?" Grey teased with a half-smile.
"If it's to prepare someone who'll be on the streets with me, it's worth it."
LAPD Academy – Three Days Later | 7:45 AM
It was a cool, clear morning. The Los Angeles Police Academy campus, nestled in the Elysian Park neighborhood, was quiet like the calm before the sound of boots hitting the ground.
Gustavo entered wearing a patrol uniform, but with the Academy crest hanging from a temporary badge. On his arm was a belt holster with his Glock loaded, and in his backpack were teaching materials, tourniquets, training holsters, inert blades, and printed documents.
He was greeted by an instructor, Lieutenant Darlene Porter, a veteran of the Metropolitan Division.
"Officer Silva. A pleasure to have you with us. I've heard a lot about you."
"Lieutenant Porter. Thank you for the welcome."
"The room is ready. You have 22 cadets today. Class on 'Individual Equipment Selection and Personal Configuration.' Duration: 4 hours."
Gustavo nodded.
"Let's make it count."
Training Room Alpha 02 – 8:00 AM
The room was large, with side windows, mats in one part, and tables and chairs in the other. A projector pointed to a white screen, but the center of the class was a large table where Gustavo displayed his materials:
Two complete plate carriers (one with real ceramic plates, the other with training plates)
Leg holsters, belt holsters, and IWB holsters
EOTech and Trijicon holographic sights
Surefire tactical flashlights
A replica HK416, adapted for simulation
Various types of CAT and SWAT-T tourniquets
A selection of combat knives (real and training)
An Ops-Core helmet with NVG mount
The cadets filed into formation, blue uniforms with sweaters, all standing at attention.
Gustavo looked at them and calmly opened:
"Rest. Sit down."
They sat. The silence was absolute.
— "I'm Officer Gustavo Silva, Mid-Wilshire Division. Patrolman. Independent Officer. Harvard Law graduate, former DOD legal intern, and occasional APH instructor with JSOC personnel."
A low murmur ran through the row of students. One of the cadet without thinking, let out a muffled "damn."
Gustavo smiled slightly.
"You'll hear a lot of myths about equipment. You'll see a lot of people on the street with useless or poorly assembled paraphernalia. The goal here is to teach you what really works. What can save your life... or end it."
He walked over to the equipment.
"Let's talk about your kit. Because if you rely solely on the standard kit, you'll always be one step behind whoever comes to kill you."
Class in progress – 9:15 AM
Gustavo demonstrated how to configure a leg holster without hindering movement, and why a poorly positioned holster can be fatal during a chase.
"Who here has ever seen someone trip over their own leg trying to draw?"
Half the cadets raised their hands.
"Exactly. Your equipment has to work for you. Not against you."
He walked among the students, adjusting belt positions and holster angles. Then he pulled out the plate carrier.
"This isn't cosplay. It's a shield. And if it's not properly adjusted, the plate will ride up, break your jaw, or shift and leave you vulnerable."
Patiently, he demonstrated the height adjustment, the weight distribution, and the position of the mag pouches.
"And if you're thinking, 'Oh, but I'm a patrolman, I don't need that'... Remember: no one plans for the worst. But the worst happens."
Break – 10:30 AM
The cadets sipped water and chatted animatedly. Some discussed equipment brands, others tested the items Gustavo had brought.
Lieutenant Porter took him aside.
"You have a direct, yet approachable manner. This... is rare."
"I've learned from the best. And I've seen the worst. Teaching is the least I can do."
Final part of the class – 11:45 AM
Gustavo returned to the center.
—"Let's finish with something few here think about: APH. You've seen this in theory classes, but not the way you'll see it now."
He showed the CAT tourniquet, then a SWAT-T, and taught how to apply it in real time.
—"You have to be able to apply this to yourself... with just one hand. With pain. With adrenaline. With blood running."
He took out a stopwatch and challenged the cadets to apply the tourniquet in under 20 seconds. Only three managed it.
—"Listen to me carefully. Equipment without training is dead weight. And training without knowledge... is theater. You're going out on the streets. The difference between going home or not can be in what you carry. And how you use it."
Closing – 12:10 PM
The cadets spontaneously clapped. Some came to thank him personally. A cadet said:
"Officer Silva, you made me realize how much I didn't know."
"Then you're on the right track."
Back at the station – 2:00 PM
Gustavo entered the captain's office. Grey was on the phone, but she greeted him with a satisfied smile.
"How was it?"
"Better than I imagined. The cadets were attentive and engaged. And I think we managed to plant a seed."
Grey hung up the phone and turned around.
"That's what builds a legacy. It's not just what you do on the street. It's what you leave for those who come after."
Gustavo nodded, looking at the badge on his chest.
"Let's build a generation that thinks, reacts, and survives."
The captain raised a mug of coffee.
"To the street teachers."
Chapter 82 – "Notes Off Key"
Los Angeles – 8:37 PM | "Blue Note Karaoke" Bar
The facade of the "Blue Note" blended the soft glow of blue neon lights with the laid-back atmosphere of local bars that seemed to exist solely to provide a respite from the chaos of the city. It was a small but cozy place with dark wood tables, a makeshift stage in the corner with microphones at the ready, and a screen where lyrics appeared in real time to the sound of popular songs.
Outside, a discreetly parked patrol car showed that not every officer takes off their uniform at the end of their shift—but that day, at least, the radio was on silent.
Gustavo got out of the car next to Angela Lopez. He wore dark jeans, a tight gray t-shirt, and a tactical watch. His Glock was in a concealed holster, as usual. Lopez wore a leather jacket over a white blouse and ripped jeans at the knees. They were both laughing at a joke that only someone who'd spent a shift at Mid-Wilshire would understand.
"If Bradford challenges anyone to sing Bon Jovi again, I'm going to throw a shoe on stage," Lopez said, laughing.
"He will. I bet he's been rehearsing 'Livin' on a Prayer' in the shower since yesterday," Gustavo replied, laughing.
Inside the bar, Talia Bishop was already sitting at one of the central tables, stirring a glass of soda with ice, while Tim Bradford, in a plaid shirt with rolled-up sleeves, selected songs on the digital screen. He looked at the two newcomers and nodded.
"Look, the hottest couple of the patrol has arrived!" Tim shouted.
"Watch out, Bradford. That sounds like flirting," Lopez teased, already pulling up a chair next to Talia.
"All that's missing is you singing Total Eclipse of the Heart again," Talia said, rolling her eyes.
— "That was emotional art. You're the ones who have no musical sensitivity," he replied, with false seriousness.
Gustavo just shook his head, laughing, and went to the bar to order a round of sodas and snacks.
9:10 PM | The evening's atmosphere takes shape
Gradually, the bar began to fill with other patrons people leaving work, friends at bachelor parties, couples trying to rekindle their passion with romantic squabbles.
Bradford finally took the stage. Bon Jovi's classic intro echoed. Gustavo was already leaning against the table, laughing before he even began.
"I TOLD YOU SO," Lopez murmured, taking a sip of the beer he'd just ordered.
Bradford held the microphone like an '80s pop star. The crowd applauded when he delivered the high note with dramatic delivery. Surprisingly, he was in tune. The audience—and the police station crew was cheering.
"See? He sings well. A complete idiot, but in tune," Bishop commented.
Gustavo looked around, smiling. The lightheartedness of that evening contrasted sharply with the constant tension they faced daily on the streets. There, among colleagues, there was laughter, camaraderie, humanity.
Then the bar door opened again.
Lopez was the first to notice.
"Oh my God..."
Captain Anderson entered, dressed casually black pants, a navy blue blouse, and a light jacket. Her hair was down, and for a moment, everyone looked at each other.
The captain looked around, located the table, and smiled.
"I hope you don't mind. I was informed that some of my best were here," she said, with a light, charismatic tone she rarely displayed at the police station.
"Captain..." Bradford stepped off the stage, smiling a little awkwardly. "You missed my show."
"I saw it from the door. And I'm thankful I didn't hear more," she replied, amused.
Everyone laughed. She sat down, accepted a soda from Gustavo, and let out a weary sigh.
"It's been a while since I've been out like this."
"Welcome to the group of Friday survivors," Lopez said. "Nobody's a captain here. Just another voice to sing off-key."
"Oh, so that's the rule?" The captain raised an eyebrow. "Silva, are you going to sing?"
Gustavo laughed.
"Only if it's something that doesn't involve embarrassing others."
"Too late for that," Bishop added.
10:00 PM | The night progresses
Gustavo was the next to go up. He chose something unexpected: "Ain't No Sunshine" by Bill Withers.
His voice was deep, smooth, and carried a sincere melancholy. The bar, which had been bustling before, gradually fell silent.
The captain watched intently. Bradford whispered to Bishop:
"This guy can shoot, knows the law, teaches APH, and sings? It's getting hard to compete."
"You've never competed," she replied with a mocking smile.
When Gustavo came down, everyone clapped. He sat down, a little flushed.
"Wow," Lopez said. "That was... real."
"Points for emotion. And for not singing Bon Jovi," the captain said, clinking her glass with his in a discreet toast.
11:00 PM | Stories and Laughter
With the stage handed over to other patrons, the group relaxed into conversation. They shared street stories like a guy who tried to escape by hiding in a dumpster, or the classic about the lady who called 911 because her cat "seemed depressed."
Lopez doubled over with laughter as he heard Gustavo imitate the lady perfectly.
The captain, in a more reflective moment, looked at them:
"You know... I've seen a lot of groups like this over the years. But few with this much in tune."
"It's the heat of the asphalt," said Bradford. "Or Gustavo's bad jokes."
"Hey!" he protested, but with a smile.
Bishop raised his glass.
"To those who can still laugh, even after a tough shift."
Everyone toasted.
12:30 AM | Time to go
The bar was starting to empty. The night was showing signs of weariness, but no one seemed to want to leave.
"I thought it would be weird to hang out with the captain," Lopez said quietly to Gustavo. "But she's here, relaxed. Just like us."
"The uniform changes how people see you. But it doesn't change who you are," he replied.
Across the table, the captain was finishing her soda. She looked at the group and said,
"Thanks for today. Sometimes we forget we're human too."
"We remind each other," Bishop replied. "That's what this is for."
1:00 AM | Bar Parking Lot
Everyone said goodbye outside, with hugs and handshakes.
Bradford looked at Gustavo.
"Dude... next time, you sing Elvis with me."
"Only if you come with sideburns," he replied.
Angela Lopez slapped Gustavo on the shoulder.
"Hey. Thanks for that. Really. We needed it."
He nodded.
"Always good to remember there's life beyond the radio."
The captain, already at her car, took one last look at the group.
"Silva. Don't forget about class next week."
"I'm already preparing new material."
"Good evening, everyone."
She got in the car and drove off.
Inside Gustavo's car – 1:15 AM
Lopez was in the passenger seat, barefoot and holding his boots in his hands.
"Man, tonight... was good. Really."
"It was. And tomorrow, everything goes back to normal. Patrol. Calls. Running around."
"But today we breathed."
"Breathing is resistance."
She looked at him with a calm smile.
"Poetic, Dr. Silva."
He drove off.
"Don't tell anyone I sing Bill Withers. I have a reputation to maintain."
She laughed out loud.
— "Too late."
Advanced chapters on my Patreon
[email protected]/SHADOWGHOST07
DO NOT subscribe to my Patreon through the iOS/Apple Store. Not only will they charge you 30% more, but they will also hold the funds for 75 days before releasing them to me, which is very detrimental to me. If you're reading this on an iPhone, please contribute via browser/PC