A Few Days Later
[Nine-Nine] [Morning]
The coffee machine made a noise that could only be described as a death rattle.
Then it stopped.
Silence fell over the bullpen.
Not Holt-staring-at-you silence. This was the kind of silence reserved for realizing you left your gun in the bathroom or that the suspect you just insulted was standing behind you with a knife.
Jake was the first to react.
He stared at the machine, pressed the button again, and frowned. "Okay. That was weird. It usually screams first."
He pressed it a third time.
Nothing.
Jake turned slowly to face the bullpen. "Guys."
Amy was already on her feet. "No. No no no no no. That sound was wrong. That was not a healthy mechanical sound."
Terry jogged over, concern etched into his face. "What is it?"
"The coffee machine," Jake said solemnly. "It made a noise like a wounded animal and then it died."
Charles dropped the lid of his Tupperware. "No."
Gina swiveled in her chair. "Say it louder. I want the trauma to fully register."
Amy was already crouched in front of the machine, inspecting it like it was a crime scene. "The indicator light is off. It should be blinking. It is not blinking. It is… dead."
Rosa leaned back in her chair, arms crossed. "So."
Amy looked up at her. "So?"
"So we beat it until it works again."
"That is not how machines function," Amy snapped.
"It works for vending machines," Rosa replied.
Jake pressed his hands to his temples. "Okay. Nobody panic. We are professionals. We can handle this."
Hitchcock shuffled over, half awake, holding an empty mug. "Is the brown magic ready?"
"No," Amy said tightly. "It is broken."
Hitchcock blinked. "Like broken broken?"
"Yes," Amy said. "Like no coffee."
Hitchcock stared at her for a long second, then turned and walked back to his desk without a word.
Scully lifted his head. "Is the coffee broken or is this a trick question?"
"It is broken," Gina said. "And we are about to watch society collapse in real time."
Boyle raised his hand. "I have emergency cold brew in my locker."
Everyone turned to him.
Boyle puffed up slightly. "I like to be prepared."
"Give it to me," Jake said.
Boyle hesitated. "It is oat milk based."
Jake recoiled. "Never mind. I would rather face the day unaltered."
Amy stood up, breathing fast. "Okay. Okay. We can fix this. We just need to troubleshoot calmly."
Rosa snorted. "You have ten minutes before Jake starts biting people."
"I do not bite," Jake said. "I snap."
Terry stepped in front of the machine. "Alright. Terry has muscles and a calm voice. Terry will fix this."
He pressed the button.
Nothing happened.
Terry's smile twitched. "Okay. Terry is less calm."
Gina leaned back, already filming on her phone. "I want this documented. For the future documentary. When historians ask what finally broke the NYPD."
The elevator dinged.
Everyone froze.
Captain Holt stepped out.
He took one look at the gathered crowd around the coffee machine and sighed.
"This is disappointing," Holt said. "It is 10:12 AM. You are all standing in a semi circle like villagers confronting a witch." He looked kinda happy today. Something good must have happened to him this morning.
"The coffee machine is broken," Amy said quickly. "We are working on a solution."
Holt looked at the machine. Then at Amy. Then at Jake, who was visibly vibrating.
"I see," Holt said. "This explains the tension in the room."
Jake nodded. "Sir. Without coffee, I am just a man with thoughts. Bad thoughts."
Holt clasped his hands behind his back. "The Nine Nine has survived hostage situations, bomb threats, and budget cuts. I refuse to believe we will fall to a broken appliance."
Rosa raised an eyebrow. "Bold words for a man who also drinks coffee."
Holt ignored her. "Santiago. Diagnosis."
Amy swallowed. "Possibly an electrical failure. Or internal pressure imbalance. Or..."
Holt cut in, tone dry. "Or it is because Madeline Wuntch visited three days ago."
The bullpen froze.
Jake's eyes widened. "Oh my God. He said it out loud."
Boyle gasped. "Captain, are you suggesting her evil lingers?"
"I am not suggesting it," Holt said calmly. "I am stating it as fact."
Gina sat up straighter. "Yes. I knew it. Her aura is demonic. She drains joy, hope, and apparently espresso."
Rosa nodded once. "Makes sense. She walked past the copier and it jammed for an hour."
Amy blinked. "That was not on the maintenance log."
"It should be," Holt replied. "Wuntch has a long history of disrupting functional systems simply by existing near them."
Terry frowned at the machine. "So Terry is supposed to fight… residual evil?"
"Yes," Holt said. "With professionalism."
Hitchcock wandered back over, squinting at the machine. "I once dated a woman like Wuntch. Every time she came over, my TV broke."
Scully nodded. "Same. My microwave exploded."
Everyone looked at Hitchcock and Scully with a disgusted look and they didn't even want to know about their dating history.
Amy rubbed her temples. "Okay. Let's not jump to supernatural conclusions."
The coffee machine suddenly emitted a low, wheezing click.
Everyone screamed except Holt and Rosa.
Jake pointed at it. "See? It knows her name."
Gina whispered loudly, "Say her name three times and the printer dies."
Boyle crossed himself. "Captain, should we cleanse it?"
"With what," Holt asked. "Your paprika?"
Boyle hesitated. "It is smoked paprika."
"No," Holt said. "That would make it worse. Wuntch has a thing for smoked paprika. It'll only make her strong."
Terry squared his shoulders. "Alright. Terry will try one more thing." He unplugged the machine, waited three seconds, then plugged it back in.
Nothing happened.
The indicator light stayed dark. Then the machine made a sharp crackling sound, like electricity snapping its fingers.
Amy barely had time to gasp. "That is not good."
A bright spark shot out of the side panel, followed by a loud pop that echoed through the bullpen. Smoke puffed upward in a thin, accusing plume.
Jake yelped and leapt backward. "It's attacking."
The lights flickered once.
Then everything went black.
The bullpen plunged into silence, broken only by the slow whine of systems powering down and Boyle letting out a soft, frightened whimper.
A second passed.
Then another.
"Okay," Jake said into the darkness. "Everyone stay calm. If anyone hears chanting, screaming, or the phrase 'hello Raymond,' we run."
Emergency lights flickered on, casting the room in a dim, red glow that made everyone look like they were trapped in a low-budget apocalypse movie.
Holt's voice cut through the gloom, steady and deeply offended. "Excellent. A power outage. The curse of Wuntch strikes back."
Amy was already crouching again, feeling around the machine. "There is definitely internal damage. Arg! Burned plastic."
Terry sighed heavily. "Terry warned the machine. Terry warned it."
Gina waved her phone around uselessly. "Ugh. No wifi. This blackout is ruining my ability to monetize your suffering. Do something, Terry."
Rosa leaned back in her chair, unbothered. "Told you we should have punched it."
Hitchcock squinted through the red light. "Is this the part where we start eating each other?"
"There will be no cannibalism in my precinct," Holt said with his usual stoic expression.
The next two hours dragged like a hostage negotiation gone wrong before the light came back.
Jake paced constantly, narrating his own mental decline. "I am having thoughts. Unfiltered thoughts. I just considered filing paperwork alphabetically by suspect hair texture."
Amy sat rigid at her desk, rewriting notes by hand with frightening intensity. "We will survive. We will survive. We will survive."
Terry tried to motivate everyone with positivity. "Alright team. Think of this as a cleanse. A reset."
Hitchcock was asleep within ten minutes. Scully joined him shortly after, drooling peacefully, immune to suffering.
Boyle attempted to distribute herbal tea from his locker. No one accepted.
Gina lay across two chairs, dramatically sighing. "This is how civilizations fall. First coffee. Then laws."
Holt remained in his office.
...
[Noon] [Highway]
Ray drove the patrol car with one hand on the wheel. Elle sat beside him, eyes scanning mirrors and lanes.
The radio crackled with routine calls. Nothing urgent.
Then it happened.
A silver Prius swerved hard. A bike clipped its side. The rider flew, rolled once, and slammed onto the asphalt. The Prius did not stop. It sped forward, fishtailed, then smashed into a light post with a dull metal thud.
Ray hit the brakes and pulled over fast.
"Dispatch," he said into the radio, voice even. "We have a hit and run turned crash. Eastern Highway, near Exit Twelve. One cyclist down. One vehicle into a light post. We need medical attention."
"Copy," dispatch replied.
Ray was already out of the car.
Elle moved first toward the biker. She knelt beside him and noticed the twisted ankle and bleeding arm. "Do not move. Look at me. Can you feel your legs?"
The biker groaned. "Fuck! My legs. It hurts bad."
"You have a break. Stay still. Medics on the way," She said as she glanced over to the Prius.
Ray walked to the Prius.
The front end was crushed. The airbag had not opened. The driver sat slumped forward, blood on her face, mouth twisted in shock and rage, and she had lost a couple of teeth.
Ray tapped the window. "Ma'am. I am Officer White. Are you hurt?"
The woman snapped her head up. Her eyes were glassy.
"You did this," she yelled. "You people did this."
Ray kept his voice calm. "Please unlock the door."
She screamed and threw open the door, swinging her fist at him. It hit his chest but did nothing. Her knuckles cracked, and she screamed again.
"Arrg! You hit me!" She yelled.
Ray did not step back. He smiled, small and polite. He could smell the scent of strong alcohol on her. He took a quick peek inside and yep, there it was, the empty liquor bottle... lying on the car's floor, near the brake. 'No wonder she couldn't hit the brakes.'
"Drink and drive, hit and run, and assault on a police officer," he said. "Ma'am, kindly get out of the car. You are under arrest."
"You cannot tell me what to do," she shouted. "I pay your salary. You should arrest him." She pointed at the injured biker. "He was the one who got in my way."
Ray reached in and turned off the engine. "Step out of the vehicle. Now."
She tried to shove him again. He caught her wrist, turned it gently, unbuckled her seatbelt, and guided her out. She stumbled, cursed, and nearly fell. Ray held her upright.
Elle looked over from the biker.
The woman kept yelling. "That biker came out of nowhere. This is not my fault."
Ray guided her to the guardrail and cuffed her while telling her the rights to remain silent and all.
She glared at him, blood on her chin. "You think you are tough."
Ray didn't care much about a drunken bitch.
Sirens grew louder. An ambulance pulled in behind them. Paramedics rushed to the biker and the injured Karen. Another patrol car arrived.
Elle stood and joined Ray. She looked at the woman, then at Ray. "You good."
"Yes," Ray said.
The woman slumped, finally quiet.
Elle watched the paramedics work, then glanced back at Ray. "You handled that clean."
Ray nodded. "So did you."
"I was worried for a moment thinking you might punch her," She said, leaning on the cruiser as the paramedics got them in the ambulance.
"Lot has changed..." Ray said before he walked over to the other cops.
---
[That Night] [Shaw's Bar]
The Nine-Nine occupied their usual corner like a territorial claim no one challenged anymore. Minus Charles. He got a date tonight.
Gina was standing instead of sitting. That alone told everyone something was wrong.
She was holding a drink she had not touched, eyes wide, posture rigid, like a woman bracing for impact.
Jake leaned back in the booth. "Okay. You called an emergency team meeting at a bar, which means one of three things. You are quitting social media, you accidentally married a celebrity, or you committed a crime that requires emotional support."
Gina looked at him. "Worse."
Amy leaned forward. "Is someone hurt?"
"No," Gina said. "But my future is."
Rosa raised an eyebrow. "She got kicked out."
Gina pointed at her. "See. This is why you are my emotional support animal. So ruthless, I love it."
Terry blinked. "Kicked out of what?"
"Floorgasm. My dance group," Gina said flatly.
There was a beat.
Then Terry smiled. "Oh. Okay. That is fixable. Dance groups have conflicts all the time. Terry once did competitive step aerobics in college. People quit, people return."
"They voted me out," Gina said with a heavy sigh. "Democracy is a lie."
Amy frowned. "Wait. How does the entire group vote out one person? You made that group. That's so unfair."
Gina sat down and slammed her head on the table. "People do not like standing next to greatness. It makes them look average. So they do what the weak always do. They band together and eliminate the threat."
Rosa took a sip of her beer. "Every time."
Jake leaned forward. "Hold on. You said your future was in danger. Why now? You have been kicked out of things before. Including my birthday planning committee, twice."
Gina exhaled and finally took a drink. "Because the dance group got selected for a TV Show. Big stage and famous judges... Haaa... Just imagine the exposure and fame. And they got selected because of my awesome talent."
Terry's smile faded. "Oh."
"You know about the wildcard entry?" Ray finally said something good that made Gina look up.
"Go on, I'm listening," Gina said, narrowing her eyes.
"Why don't you make a new group, enter as a wildcard entry and..." He raised his beer bottle at her. "...win the show?"
"He has a point," Terry said as he took a sip of his beer.
"It's a couple dance show. So, I'll need someone with good synergy who can keep up with my greatness," Gina said, looking at Ray. 'We're so going to have dance sex. I'm going to climb up that hunk body of yours and lick you up like a strawberry popsicle.'
Elle chuckled, giving Ray a little nudge with her elbow out of old habit and maybe the drinks made her open up a little, "She's looking at you."
"Fine, I'll help you," Ray agreed instantly.
This will give him the perfect opportunity to get to know her better and spend some quality time. Besides, it's Gina. Halfway through the practice, they'll probably end up with their tongues in each other's throats.
"You can dance too?" Terry asked Ray. He was kinda expecting Gina to pick him.
But before Ray could answer, Elle chimed in again, "Oh, yeah. He's good. Back when we were... Ah! Nevermind. Anyway, he's good."
Rosa stood up and grabbed Ray's arm. "It's getting late."
"Yeah, we should go," Ray replied as he finished his beer. "And Gina, you check on the details on that wildcard entry. We are gonna wipe the floor with your old group."
Both of them left...
[Outside] [In the car]
"She's your ex?" Rosa asked.
Ray sighed. "Well, it's complicated. But I think you deserve to know and so do Amy and Gina."
There was a moment of silence. He didn't even start the car and waited.
In a few minutes, both Amy and Gina joined them in the car.
"What's up with you and Elle?" Gina asked as soon as she entered the back seat.
---
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