Carlos retreated quietly, as silent as when he arrived. Back in his car parked in the distance, he took off his baseball cap and plain glasses, and used a wet wipe to clean off the dark foundation and fake beard from his face.
The Hand's people were still monitoring the place where Jesse used to live, which meant their investigation into the attack on the "Warehouse" had not stopped.
Carlos started the car and slowly drove away from the block.
He didn't go home, but instead turned toward another area of Brooklyn—the bars where the Buffalo Gang frequently hung out.
He still wanted to gather more information.
Ten minutes later, he parked the car in a paid parking lot, took a black knit hat from his backpack to put on, pulled up his collar, and applied a full beard.
The bar's interior was dimly lit and the music was loud.
Carlos walked to the innermost seat at the bar and ordered a beer.
He drank slowly, his eyes scanning his surroundings while his ears caught fragments of drifting conversations.
"...I heard Old Jack's been in a terrible mood lately, that shipment was taken out..."
"...A new group of Colombians arrived in the South Side, they can push the prices down..."
None of this was what he wanted.
He sat for about twenty minutes as people left one after another. After the bar's crowd had thinned by half, he finally heard two men in overalls, smelling of engine oil, mention Jesse.
"Jesse?... That kid died a miserable death." One of them lowered his voice. "I heard when they found him, his fingernails were gone, and he was covered in wounds."
"Served him right," the other sneered. "It's one thing to use, but he dared to take on business? He was a nobody; it was only a matter of time..."
Carlos moved two steps closer with his glass, the voices becoming slightly clearer.
"It wasn't just about business," the first voice whispered. "I heard from'Slim' that a few days before Jesse died, someone saw two guys dressed like ninjas."
"Ninjas? You've watched too many damn movies, haven't you?"
"Believe it or not, Slim said he saw it with his own eyes. At night, downstairs at Jesse's place, the guy went up the wall with a'shua' sound. Jesse was dead two days later."
Carlos's hand holding the glass remained as steady as ever.
He set down the glass and prepared to leave.
Just then, a commotion broke out at the other end of the bar.
A man in a faded denim jacket with messy hair stood up unsteadily, pointing at a burly bald man opposite him and cursing: "Say that one more damn time! I earned that money!"
The bald man sneered and stood up as well. He was nearly 1.9 meters tall with bulging muscles. "Earned it? You lost two bags of goods; Boss Jack was being merciful by not taking your life."
"There's a shortage everywhere now, God knows who snatched them!"
"So you're just going to leave it at that?" The bald man took a step forward, almost pressing against the other's face. "Do you know how much those two bags are worth these days? Even if I sold you, you couldn't afford to pay it back."
The people around them quieted down, watching with interest.
The bartender wiped a glass, expressionless.
Carlos guessed the bald man was likely a small leader in the Buffalo Gang, while the other man was a downstream seller, probably a peripheral associate with some status.
"I'll give you two choices: either make up the payment within three days, or use your body parts to settle the debt."
Carlos looked away, put down the money for his drink, and stood up to leave the bar.
As he reached the door, he heard a dull thud and a scream from behind him, followed by cursing and laughter.
He had cleared out a "Warehouse," and not only was The Hand investigating in secret, but it also seemed to have caused chaos among the gangs.
The chilly air cleared his head a bit.
Jesse was a newcomer, and so was he at the NYPD.
In any place, as long as something happens and there's no suspected target, the first person to be suspected is the newcomer.
He had to better integrate into his identity as a Patrol Officer, establish a firm foothold in the Precinct, and earn the trust and cover of his colleagues.
As for his "dirty cop" identity at night, he had to keep a low profile for a few more days.
When he returned home, it was nearly dawn. Carlos entered and checked the door and window alarms.
He then sat on the sofa, not feeling sleepy at all
He took a bottle of beer from the fridge, called up the system interface, and checked his [personal status].
Strength 15, Agility 12, spirit 12... Before going to work the next day, Carlos went to a well-known pizza shop and ordered twelve large pizzas.
The morning patrol was the same as usual. Frank seemed to notice he was a bit distracted but didn't ask much.
They returned to the Precinct early at noon, and the pizzas arrived just in time. Carlos helped the delivery person carry the boxes into the patrol team office, and the rich aroma of cheese and baked crust immediately filled the room.
Several Patrol Officers who were about to head out for lunch stopped in their tracks.
"Everyone," Carlos clapped his hands, "pizzas are on me. I just moved to a new place yesterday, so consider this a thank you for everyone's care during this time."
The office fell silent for a moment, followed by someone letting out a whistle.
"Whoa, the rookie knows the ropes!"
A white officer in his thirties with a slightly chubby build walked over and patted Carlos on the shoulder.
This was Sheriff Tom Haskins, one of Carlos's direct superiors, responsible for scheduling and daily supervision. He was a typical Irishman with a ruddy face and a loud laugh.
A burst of laughter followed from those around them.
"I heard you rented a small villa, you should throw a party!" someone jeered.
Carlos shrugged and gave a wry smile. "My credit card is about to be maxed out. I just bought some furniture and didn't even dare to get the power drill I wanted, so it's just pizza for everyone!"
These words immediately struck a chord with many.
"Mentioning credit cards just makes me angry," another young Patrol Officer chimed in. "I saw a sound system I liked last month, but after paying the mortgage, my limit wasn't enough, so I couldn't buy it."
"I still haven't finished paying off my college loans; I kind of regret going to college..."
Everyone started chatting and complaining about living expenses, and the atmosphere became lively.
Carlos put on disposable gloves and nodded in agreement while distributing the pizzas.
Sheriff Haskins took two slices, took a large bite, and said indistinctly, "Alright, stop crying about being poor. Who in our line of work isn't like this? Carlos, thanks."
He clapped his hands again. "Finish eating and get some rest; we have a bunch of things to do this afternoon."
Carlos also handed two slices to Frank.
After taking them, Frank said in a low voice, "Good job, Carlos!"
Carlos winked at him, indicating he got the message.
Lunchtime passed quickly. Everyone cleaned up the trash and returned to their posts, continuing their work after a brief rest.
Carlos could feel that some colleagues who used to only give him a polite nod now looked at him with a bit more friendliness.
In the afternoon, the radio in the patrol car crackled.
"7-Adam-5... 'Quick-Pass' convenience store at 47 Green Street. The owner reports an armed robbery. The suspect just fled, described as a white male in a black jacket... Please respond immediately."
Frank grabbed the radio: "7-Adam-5 received, en route."
He turned on the siren, and the car accelerated toward Green Street.
Carlos's heart rate quickened slightly. Armed robbery—even though the suspect had fled the scene, he might still be nearby.
At the same time, the system's notification sound rang in his mind.
[Ding!]
[Detected host contact with an armed robbery case. Triggering Side Mission: Street Capture.]
[Mission Description: Find the suspect of the 'Quick-Pass' convenience store robbery. The suspect may be hiding in the West Alley District, an area piled with many dumpsters and discarded furniture, a hiding place for the homeless.]
[Mission Requirements: Safely capture the suspect and recover the stolen goods.]
[Mission Rewards: 50 points, increased Precinct Reputation, attention from the Detective Bureau.]
[Failure Penalty: None]
[Mission Time Limit: 2 hours]
A side mission was here!
Carlos checked the glock pistol at his waist and the spare magazine. The mission description mentioned the "West Alley District" and "dumpsters, discarded furniture," which was already a very clear hint.
"It's good to stay alert," Frank said while driving. "The suspect might be armed, but remember, our job is to handle the call, not to hunt down the suspect."
"Understood," Carlos nodded. "Safety first."
Three minutes later, the patrol car arrived at the convenience store on Green Street. A few passersby had already gathered at the door, and the owner was excitedly gesturing to the Patrol Officers who had arrived first.
Frank parked the car, and the two of them quickly got out.
The first Patrol Officers on the scene were Marcus Davis and his partner, whom Carlos knew.
Davis saw them and nodded, quickly explaining the situation: "The owner says the suspect pointed a gun at him, robbed the cash from the register and several cartons of cigarettes, and ran west. It's been less than five minutes. We've already called for backup and are cordoning off the surrounding streets."
"No one injured?" Frank asked.
"The owner is fine."
Frank turned to Carlos: "Let's check the west. Davis, you guys hold it down here."
"Okay."
The two got into the car and drove slowly toward the west.
Frank tapped the steering wheel, his expression relaxed, seemingly holding no hope for a capture.
Both sides of this street were lined with old apartment buildings and small shops, with alleys crisscrossing everywhere. It would be very hard to find someone if they hid anywhere.
After passing one block, Frank stopped the car. "We'll need to get out in a moment. Keep the radio open. If you find anything, call it in first; don't act alone."
"Okay... Uh, wait, there's a large dumpster over there, someone's acting suspicious behind it."
Frank nodded, drove another few dozen meters, and stopped.
Frank reported over the radio that they were about to exit the vehicle and requested backup, then gave Carlos a look.
Carlos drew his glock pistol, flicked off the safety, got out of the car, and jogged forward, stopping at a corner about ten meters from the dumpster.
Frank was behind him.
The two of them exchanged a glance.
Frank patted Carlos's shoulder and whispered, "GO!"
Carlos suddenly lunged out, raising his gun and shouting, "NYPD! Come out! Hands in the air!" At the same time, he ran to the other side of the dumpster and half-crouched to avoid any possible fire from the suspect.
Frank also raised his gun, exposing half his head, and barked, "NYPD! Let me see your hands!"
The area behind the dumpster was quiet for a few seconds before a white man in a dark blue hoodie stood up trembling, hands held high, with a bulging backpack dropped at his feet.
"Don't shoot!" the man shouted. "I was just hungry!"
Carlos kept his aim: "Slowly turn around, face down on the ground, hands behind your head!"
The man practiced the move skillfully and lay face down on the ground.
Carlos stepped forward and kicked the backpack away, revealing scattered cash and several cartons of cigarettes inside.
"You are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent..."
He quickly handcuffed the man and frisked him to confirm he had no other weapons.
As he was reciting the Miranda Warning, Frank also arrived. He leaned down and used his gun barrel to flip open the backpack, seeing a gun tucked between the cigarettes, and immediately smiled: "Good job, Carlos!"