Chapter 249: The Veteran's Test
Jake told a story about how he'd stopped a drunk driver and prevented what could have been a fatal accident.
But something felt off. The veteran officer sitting across from him didn't seem interested in the drunk driver's blood alcohol level or the weapons found in the car. Instead, he kept making crude comments about Jake's female patrol partner, asking inappropriate questions about her appearance.
This made Jake uncomfortable. What made it worse was that after they'd driven around for a while, the first assignment the veteran gave him was to ignore the obvious drug dealers on the corner and instead pull over a car full of college kids who'd just bought drugs. In what felt like highway robbery, the officer confiscated all the cash from the terrified students, then proudly flashed the money at Jake.
Jake couldn't help but wonder: is this guy really the legendary narcotics hero everyone talks about? He acts more like just another dirty cop, completely unreasonable and power-hungry.
The feeling that something was seriously wrong grew stronger, until the veteran officer handed him a glass pipe. "Hey, I became a cop to stop people from using drugs. I'd never touch that stuff."
The veteran urged him again, "This isn't crack. Just take a hit."
"No way. I'd never touch that stuff."
But this time, the officer wasn't taking no for an answer. He suddenly hit the brakes and stopped the patrol car in the middle of the street. Before Jake could say another word, a service pistol was pressed against his temple.
"If I were a drug dealer, you'd be dead right now!"
Jake raised his hands, completely bewildered.
"Kid, you still don't get it? Think our job is some kind of game? As narcotics officers, we often have to blend in with dealers and users. Imagine you're undercover and they suddenly hand you a pipe and tell you to smoke up. What would you do then?"
The veteran spoke in a lecturing tone, "Would you still give them that Boy Scout routine about never touching the stuff? Trust me, the only outcome for you would be a body bag and a flag on your coffin. What's wrong with you? Listen, I don't want you on my team. Get out of the car and go back to riding a desk!"
Jake's eyes burned with shame, feeling his integrity being attacked. He suddenly grabbed the pipe from the veteran's hand, sparked it up, and took a deep drag.
He'd prove his point.
Then the smoke hit his lungs and made him cough violently.
Then, as the officer nodded approvingly, Jake felt his head start spinning. Everything around him became fuzzy and distorted, and he noticed the veteran's mouth curl into a disturbing smile.
Ron's training session with Ian was much more straightforward. Ron drove him around the streets of LA, introducing him to all the major players in the area—the diner owner, Dominic Toretto, and others—making sure everyone knew Ian was under his protection.
With that kind of backing, Ron was confident that as long as Ian stayed within LA city limits, people would show him respect.
"Remember what I told you? If you run into drug dealers you can't handle, call our friend at the diner. He'll be happy to eliminate his competition for you.
If you encounter street racers, mention Toretto's name and tell them you're family. Trust me, nobody in this city will be stupid enough to keep giving you attitude after that.
If you run into real trouble—genuine desperados—then run. Fast. Get to my safe house. Even when I'm out on operations, the retired guys I keep there are more than capable of handling any threat short of the National Guard."
Ron continued, genuinely concerned, "Don't let their age fool you. I guarantee you won't find a more elite team anywhere in Los Angeles."
Ron was genuinely worried about his future brother-in-law.
While Ian had chosen law enforcement as his career, Fiona would be devastated if anything happened to him, and Ron never wanted to see his woman hurt.
Ian was trying to process everything Ron had told him, gazing out the window at the urban landscape, when he suddenly shouted, "Stop! Pull over!"
Ron hit the brakes and swerved to the curb. "What's happening?"
"There's a fight in that alley! I know that guy—it's Jake, from my academy class." Ian threw open the car door and rushed toward the commotion.
Worried for Ian's safety, Ron followed.
In the narrow alley, a clean-cut white guy in his twenties was fighting two homeless men, and he was clearly losing.
While he had one attacker secured in a chokehold, the other was landing a series of kicks to his ribs and stomach. The guy holding the choke had no way to defend himself, relying purely on determination to absorb the punishment.
But with Ian's arrival, the tide immediately turned.
Ian sprinted into the alley and, just as he reached Jake, launched a flying kick that sent the standing attacker stumbling backward and freed his academy classmate.
The homeless man spun around angrily, ready to teach this new opponent a lesson, when Ian's shadow fell across his vision.
Following up on his kick, Ian immediately grabbed a metal trash can and hurled it at the attacker, knocking him unconscious. At the same moment, the man caught in Jake's chokehold also passed out from lack of oxygen.
Just like that, the two police academy graduates had won the day.
"You okay?" Ron reached down and helped up a teenage girl who'd been cowering in the corner. If he had to guess, she was probably the reason for this whole mess.
Why was Ron so sure? Because the girl's high school uniform was nearly torn off, exposing large areas of skin across her chest and shoulders. This had all the hallmarks of an attempted sexual assault that was interrupted by two rookie cops on their first day of training.
"Can you tell me what happened here?"
"You're all dead!" The girl snapped back to awareness and immediately started kicking the unconscious homeless man in the groin.
"Whoa, whoa, easy there," Ron said, restraining the girl with some difficulty. Meanwhile, Ian was helping Jake to his feet. Ron frowned as he looked at both rookies: "Gentlemen, I don't want to discourage your heroic instincts, but in a situation like this, you should have drawn your weapons first."
(End of this chapter)
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