Rachel drove Felix to the station before heading to campus herself. These days she was always behind the wheel of his G-Wagon—her Mini hadn't been touched in weeks.
Felix was in high spirits as he changed into his uniform and gear. Stepping outside, he unexpectedly ran into Mark.
"Aren't you supposed to be in the hospital? What, you escaped?"
Mark rolled his eyes. "It was a gastrointestinal thing, not a psych ward, okay? And for the record, I've been fine for a while—fit as a fiddle."
"Is that so? Then to celebrate your discharge, how about some spicy boiled fish?"
"You're a demon. No way." Mark bolted.
To think a good-looking cop could look that ridiculous—women really were tigers.
With his plan thwarted, Felix could only head for his patrol car. This time his ride was a Dodge Charger. His Taurus had taken a bullet to the engine and been written off. Thankfully, patrol cars came from department stock—otherwise he'd have been sick over it.
Even so, Carles still cornered him for a lecture about budget constraints and taking better care of assigned vehicles. Felix nodded and grunted at all the right moments until it ended.
He hit the road. Los Angeles looked the same as ever. The calls coming in hadn't changed either.
"Adam 388, we have a report of a missing driver from a friend. Please respond to the following address."
"Adam 388, copy."
The address turned out to be in a mixed Chinese-and-white neighbourhood. A telltale sign: Chinese homeowners often paved over their front and back yards for convenience, while white families kept lawns—until, over time, they moved away, complaining the area had gone downhill.
As Felix pulled up, a Chinese man on the curb waved him over.
"You're the one who called?"
"Yes, officer, that was me."
Felix took out his notebook—still practically unused after a month.
"Your name? And who do you believe is missing?"
"I'm Ryder Li. I think my friend, Colin Zhang, has gone missing."
The name suggested Chinese heritage, but that didn't matter—just another case."Tell me everything you can about him. The more detail, the better."
"He's thirty-one, five-seven, about a hundred and fifty pounds, wears glasses. The day he disappeared he was in a black T-shirt with a star pattern, black Adidas track pants, and a cap."
"When did you first think something was wrong? What was he doing before that?"
"Around two in the afternoon yesterday. Colin drives part-time for Uber. He hasn't come back since, and he rarely works nights. He's also got depression and some health issues. His family and I are really worried."
Felix ignored the mental health aside and kept on. "What's his car—make, model, colour? And the plate?"
"Silver 2020 Toyota Camry. Plate number is XXXXXXX."
Felix glanced at the nearby house. "Is this Colin's place? I see you've got cameras—can we go in, pull footage of him leaving, and get a clear face shot and a photo of the car with the full plate? I'll need those for the Missing Persons system."
"Of course."
Ryder led him inside, where they grabbed the relevant footage and photos. Felix tucked them away.
"All right, I'll take these back to the station, upload them, and pass them to the relevant team. If you hear anything, call us right away."
"Thank you, officer. Do you know how soon we'll find him?"
"I can't make promises. All I can say is we'll do our best." Patrol wasn't in the business of guarantees—and if they failed, that could come back to bite him.
Ryder's smile was strained. "Please. Do what you can."Felix nodded and headed back, handing the file to Carles.
Carles flipped it open, then set it aside. "I'll forward it to Homicide."
"You've already decided it's a homicide? What if he just had an accident?"
"They'll look. But every year plenty of rideshare drivers vanish, and most turn up dead. They've got cash, a phone, sometimes a car—easy to fence. You get it."
Felix did. Rideshare was still a high-risk trade here, just like he'd heard as a kid about cabbies getting robbed or killed. Some jobs never stopped being dangerous.
He shrugged and went back out on patrol. Los Angeles was too big; finding someone was a specialist's work. His job was to keep moving.
Not long after, Dispatch came over the radio again:
"All units, be advised—shots fired in the Austin neighbourhood. Caller reports over a dozen rounds fired, at least three shooters involved. Officers in the area, respond with caution."
Felix braked, pulled on his ballistic vest, then hit lights and sirens. Foot to the floor, he tore toward Austin. Along the way, other patrol cars joined in, sirens wailing, rolling through intersections in a line.
When they arrived, gunfire was still cracking—loud and fast as popcorn.
Other officers parked at a distance, found cover, scoped the situation, and called for crossfire support before edging forward.
Felix didn't bother. He drove straight in, stopping only when the gunfire sounded close—pulling up alongside a house.
Austin was classic suburban America—detached wooden houses, none of them bulletproof. He slid out, keeping behind the car door, listening for direction.
The fire was too close for a sidearm. He swapped the Glock 19 for a Remington shotgun and a fistful of shells. One ch-chk later, he was circling behind the houses.
The gunfire was just ahead now. A quick peek: a man was crouched at the far corner of the neighbouring house, leaning out to spray fire down the street.
"Police! Hands up!"
The man flinched, half-turning his weapon toward Felix.
Felix didn't hesitate. The Remington roared, shredding the man where he stood.
[Ding] Hostile eliminated. Reward: $100. New skill unlocked – Silent Step.Skill description: In complex environments, closing distance without being heard is key. This skill allows the host to move as silently as a cat.[System notice] Milestone reached – 10 confirmed kills. Future rewards will be granted in batches of 10. Host may choose to upgrade existing skills or describe a desired skill for the system to create.