AN: Bonus chapter.👍🫡
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[Nine-Nine Precinct – Briefing Room]
The map of Westcourt Mall glowed from the projector. Captain Holt stood at the front, pointer in hand, calm and unflinching.
"There are five main entrances," he said. "North and south main doors. Two side service alleys. One underground delivery tunnel. All are currently sealed or watched. Local units have secured the perimeter, but we'll take command upon arrival. Our focus is evacuation and engagement control."
The room was locked in focus. Amy was already taking notes with a serious expression. Terry stood with arms crossed, brows drawn tight. Rosa leaned over the table, her eyes scanning every exit and blind corner on the mall blueprint.
Jake whispered to Boyle, "I've been to that mall. It's got a Cinnabon and a surprisingly aggressive Build-A-Bear."
"Those bears bite," Boyle whispered back.
Raymond didn't hear them.
His eyes weren't on the map. They weren't on Holt either.
They were moving slowly and methodically, from face to face.
Ten officers. Seven detectives. Holt. Terry. Rosa.
And one.
Orlando.
Mid-thirties. Short beard. Sat too still. Sweat gathered at his temple, despite the AC humming overhead.Â
Raymond caught it out of the corner of his eye.
A shift.
A subtle one.
Orlando reached for his boot, casually. He pretended to tie his shoelace. With everyone focused on Holt and the map, no one would bother to look at him. But Raymond's eyes dropped lower.
There.
Orlando pressed something that was in his shock. A little blue glow appeared for a few seconds as he quickly hid it with his left leg.Â
Raymond looked away instantly. Tied his own boot. Mimicked the movement. Casual. Unconcerned.
But inside, his mind was already racing.
'Got you, motherfucker.'
He didn't need to check the signal type. He knew the tech. Those burners were single-ping communicators. Press once, transmit an embedded data packet. Probably everything Holt had just said about entrances and tactics.
Orlando had just sent the playbook to someone.
Raymond sat upright again, jaw tight.
Holt's voice carried through the room: "Tactical units will breach simultaneously. Entry teams will split into three groups. Diaz and White will take the lead on Bravo. Peralta and Santiago on Alpha. Boyle and Orlando on Charlie."
"Copy that," Rosa said.
However, to everyone's surprise, Raymond took out his gun and pointed it at Orlando. Before anyone could speak, Ray spoke, "Well, Sir. I think we need to redo our plan because someone just pinged our enemy with our plan."
Silence.
Absolute, suffocating silence.
All eyes turned to Raymond White, who stood without hesitation, arm extended, sidearm leveled directly at Orlando.
Holt didn't flinch. Terry tensed immediately, muscles coiled, hand near his holster. He was behind Orlando, ready to rumble. Amy dropped her pen. Jake's mouth opened and stayed there, like a gif buffering.
Orlando froze.
"What the hell are you doing?" Terry barked, stepping forward.
"Calm down, Officer White," Holt said, raising his right arm.Â
"He's the leak," Raymond said, calm and clear. "He just pinged someone outside. Burned a signal right under our noses."
Orlando blinked and stuttered. "Wha... What? That's... what the hell are you talking about? That's insane!" He was sweating and looked jumpy, like when you caught your dog stealing sausages from the fridge.
Amy was already moving, quietly and fast. She dropped low and crawled beneath the edge of the table like it was an obstacle course, eyes locked on Orlando's boots. She spotted the faint blue flicker.
Left leg. Under the shock.
She lunged.
Orlando yelled, tried to jerk his leg away, but Amy grabbed his ankle and yanked hard. His foot hit the table edge with a thud. Her fingers dug into the shock.
Out came the device. Compact. Blinking with blue light.
She held it up and stood up.
"Got it," she said.
Orlando's hand shot for his hip.
Raymond shouted, "Don't you dare!"
But Rosa was already there.
Her Glock and Ray's... Both fired at the same time.
Bang!Â
Bang!
Orlando screamed as his fingers exploded into red mist, the gun skidding across the tile with a metallic clatter. Blood sprayed across the floor. He collapsed sideways in the chair, clutching the shredded remains of his hand.
"ARGGGG! MOTHERFUCKING WHORES! MY FINGERS!"
Jake stumbled backward, eyes wide. "Holy shit! Now, he won't be able to wipe his... Dang!"
Boyle dropped to one knee like he was about to faint. "That was his whole hand!"
Holt raised a hand, voice steely. "Stand down. Everyone."
Terry kicked the gun away and slammed Orlando to the ground, one knee on his back. "Don't move. Don't even breathe."
Orlando writhed, cursing, blood pooling beneath him.
Raymond stepped forward, gun still ready, staring down at the man. He yanked his tie out and tightly wrapped it around Orlando's wrist to stop the blood loss.
"I watched you. You're not trained for covert. You pressed that transmitter like it was a garage door opener. Sloppy. To think a noob like you were inside this department for the last 5 years and not got caught. Ha! You are either one lucky bastard or..." Raymond said with his usual cold expression. He didn't complete what he was saying and simply looked at Holt, slightly shaking his head in disappointment.
Amy stood slowly, still holding the device. "Encrypted shortwave. Low burst. He sent our entire plan out. Including the breach teams."
Jake blinked, still recovering. "So… not a fake-out. He's actually a mole. And the mission just upgraded from 'Die Hard' to 'Mission: Impossible'. Perfect."
Rosa holstered her weapon, not taking her eyes off Orlando. "Blew his hand off just to make sure he wouldn't try again. Seemed fair."
"Yeah, self-defence too. He was going for his gun," Raymond said.
Holt's voice sliced through the tension. "Terry, take him to the hospital. Keep an eye on him. He's our link to Ivan."
"Yes, sir," Terry said as he pulled up Orlando and threw him over his shoulder and walked out.
Raymond slowly lowered his gun and holstered it. His eyes lingered on the blood for a moment before turning away.
Holt looked at him.
"We'll need to adjust the plan."
Raymond nodded. "They know what we're bringing. And we don't have much time to come up with a new plan. This is really messed-up situation. But..." He pointed at the drainage system. "Somewhat salvageable if someone is good at stealth. They can use the drainage system to gain direct access to the mall and take out the enemies, one by one. But high risk. Once they notice their friends are missing, things could get messy."
Holt studied the blueprint again, eyes narrowing at the thin lines snaking beneath the mall's foundation.
"The drainage tunnels. No cameras. No guards. Possibly flooded in areas. You're proposing a solo infiltration."
Raymond nodded. "One person, silent, fast, methodical. Take out the sentries. Disrupt communications. Maybe plant charges if needed. Cause enough confusion to let Bravo and Alpha breach while they're scrambling."
Amy shook her head. "That's borderline suicide. And what if they hurt the hostages?"
"They won't. If they wanted to kill them, they would have done so from the beginning. But there's that 50:50 chance. Anything could happen, and if you have a better plan, do tell us," Raymond said. His eyes were on the map, memorizing everything.
Jake glanced at Raymond. "You're not just suggesting it, are you? You're volunteering."
Raymond didn't blink. "I'm the only one who can pull it off."
"I knew it. You are not a rookie," Jake said, punching his fist on his palm.
Rosa stepped forward. "You're not going alone."
Raymond looked at her. "It's not up for debate."
"It is when I say it is," Rosa said.
They stared at each other. The room held its breath.
Holt stepped in. "If Diaz is volunteering, and White already knows the tunnels, then I have no objection. Diaz, White, you're Echo Team. You move now. Entry in fifteen."
Raymond hesitated. He didn't want Rosa in that tunnel. But Holt's voice left no room.
"Jake, Amy, set up entry points Alpha and Bravo. While they create a distraction from inside, you will move as planned. Coordinate with local PD. Boyle, you're on comms. I want every unit's position mapped and updated every sixty seconds. No gaps."
Jake saluted. "We won't screw this up, Captain."
Holt's voice lowered. "This is no longer about case closure. This is life and death. We neutralize the threat. We bring the hostages home. No mistakes."
Everyone nodded.
Holt turned to Rosa and Raymond. "You two leave now. Be careful."
...
...
[Underground – Drainage Tunnels]
The tunnel stank like a wet corpse rolled in hot garbage and left out for a week. Water sloshed around their boots, murky and thick. The concrete walls were slick with mold. Rats scurried somewhere ahead, and the occasional drip… drip… echoed like a clock ticking in hell.
Raymond stepped carefully, his flashlight angled low, scanning ahead.
"Romantic," he muttered. "I don't take many people to underground sewage canals, but I figured you deserved something special."
Behind him, Rosa's boots squelched with every step.
"If this is your idea of a date," she said, "you've got serious intimacy issues."
Raymond grinned. "Oh, come on. You shot me once. That kind of chemistry demands a drainage tunnel."
She scoffed. "You gonna keep bringing that up forever?"
He stopped, turned slightly, just enough for his voice to carry.
"I got shot. Spent six months learning to walk again. Nearly died. But sure, let's call it even now that we're wading through a rat toilet together."
"Don't be dramatic."
Raymond stepped aside, motioning to a tight passage branching off to the right. "Ladies first."
She looked down the tunnel. "Smells like a urinal."
"Your perfume's blending in nicely," he said. "Mumm~ nasty."
"I swear, I will stab you with a sewer pipe."
They moved forward, pace careful, breathing shallow. After a few more paces, Rosa broke the silence again.
"When this is over," she said, "I'm holding a press conference. I'll tell them I shot you. I'll explain everything. You didn't deserve what happened."
Raymond kept walking, not looking back. "That's sweet."
"Not for you. For me. I want it on record I'm the one who dropped the ball. Not some cover-up bullshit."
Raymond stopped.
Turned.
"You sure? Because if I remember right, last time you had a mic in front of you, they edited your sentence to make it sound like you solved the case with 'maximum bravery and zero casualties.'"
"That wasn't me. That was PR."
He raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. PR. Short for Post-Rosa-editing."
She squinted. "You done?"
"I dunno. You might twist this one too. Say I slipped on a soap bar and shot myself in the ribs while chasing butterflies."
Rosa cracked a grin. The first real one in hours.
"I'll call it the Butterfly Bullet Theory," she said.
Raymond chuckled. "At least I'll be legendary."
They reached a corner where the tunnel narrowed again. The walls pressed closer. Faint vibrations started pulsing through the concrete... Machinery. Probably generators.
They were getting close.
Rosa crouched, pulled out a sensor feed from her pocket, tapped into the mall's maintenance line. The signal was weak, but there was enough juice to bring up thermal silhouettes on the upper floors.
"They've got two guys near the maintenance door above us. Probably guarding it. We get past them, we're inside."
Raymond nodded. "Quiet, clean, efficient. Just like our relationship."
She looked at him. "We don't have a relationship."
He smiled. "You keep saying that, but here we are, dressed in tactical gear, crawling through human sludge, just the two of us. If this isn't bonding, I don't know what is."
She smirked again. "Next time, bring an axe instead of a Glock."
He raised the Glock in question. "It's my love language."
They checked weapons. Secured vests. Exchanged a look.
All banter drained away now.
It was time.
"Once we're inside," Raymond said, "I'll take the right flank. You cover the floor cameras and exit chokepoints. We'll move like two little critters madly out for blood."
Rosa nodded, eyes sharpening. "And if they catch on?"
"We improvise. We adapt. We shoot them in the face."
"Classic."
Raymond turned toward the narrow ladder leading up to the maintenance panel. The hatch above it was rusted and sealed with a single padlock.
He glanced back. "Ready to crash this date?"
Rosa pulled her knife.
"Ready to ruin someone's day."
And up they went.
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