You're a US police officer, what are you thinking about going back to the East for?

I have to say, compared to the mannequin that kept spouting "for justice" and "the superior is wise," this dejected version of Mia with a "life has hit me hard" look is actually more pleasing to the eye.

It could even be said that it possesses a unique charm.

You could call it decadence or giving up, but from another perspective, this state could also be described as languid, relaxed, and even somewhat sexy—it's just right for Lyon's taste.

Mia felt a little uneasy under his intense gaze.

She subconsciously touched her face, then tugged at her collar, and finally couldn't hold back any longer. She rolled her eyes, and her tone lost its previous respect.

"Sir, even though we're in the same boat now, it still makes me quite uncomfortable to have you staring at me like that."

"It's nothing."

Leon withdrew his gaze, turned the steering wheel with one hand, and smiled.

"I just think it's better if we keep this model going."

"Actually, I could tell from the way you looked in the garage that you're not some hot-blooded youth at all."

"I was just kidding you before, let's see how long you can keep up this act."

Mia paused for a moment, then slumped even further, muttering in a somewhat resigned tone:

"Tch...why didn't you say so earlier?"

Since she had already been exposed, Mia decided to lay it all out.

"When you're a new employee, who doesn't want to make a good impression on their superiors?"

"If I start by slacking off, and you happen to be the kind of rigid instructor who can't tolerate any mistakes, wouldn't my internship evaluation for the whole year be ruined?"

"It's only human nature. What's wrong with putting on a show for the sake of medical insurance and retirement pension?"

"and……"

Mia glanced at Gyan, then at the pocket containing the envelope.

"How was I supposed to know you were this kind of... well, this kind of flexible law enforcement freak?"

"If I had known you were this kind of person, why would I have bothered with all that effort?"

"Then why aren't you acting anymore?"

Lyon asked with great interest

I'm tired.

Mia sighed again, rested her head against the car window, and watched the Seattle street scene rushing past outside, looking utterly dejected.

"It's really tiring. Acting burns a lot of calories, especially when I have to sprint alongside you like that."

"That won't do, Officer Torres."

Leon grinned, revealing a set of white teeth. "We're only halfway through our day shift, and you're already complaining about being tired?"

"Huh? Only half?"

She raised her wrist to look at her watch and let out a wail.

"It's only 11 a.m.? It feels like an eternity!"

"Based on my previous understanding of patrol officers, shouldn't we be sitting in air-conditioned donut shops or sleeping in our cars?"

"Since I started work, I've been either arresting people or being chased. Are Seattle police all this inefficient?"

"What are you thinking about?"

Leon shook his head. "Those are the clerical officers in the department; we're street patrol officers."

"And this is just the beginning."

Leon glanced at her and said meaningfully:

"This busyness is just the beginning; you'll get used to it eventually."

"I'm used to this high-intensity work, used to the gangsters that can pop up at any time, used to receiving all sorts of strange envelopes, and used to signing my name on all sorts of inexplicable reports."

Mia's lips twitched twice upon hearing these words, before finally letting out a weak groan.

"It sounds like... my retirement pension is one step further away from me."

……

Detention area of ​​the branch office

Leon and Mia had just handed over the three "zero-dollar shopping team" members, who were now in a state of utter despair, to the officer on duty in the detention room.

Before Mia could catch her breath, a noise came from the other end of the corridor.

It's Harold's group.

This elite officer, who ranked among the top three in the police academy, looked quite disheveled at this moment.

His uniform now looked wrinkled and crumpled, the collar askew, and there was a brown stain of unknown composition on the sleeve that looked like some kind of secret sauce.

His face was puffed up with anger, clearly he had just been severely scolded.

Ward, following behind him, remained with his usual gloomy, lifeless expression, hands in his pockets, coldly watching Harold work like a foreman.

Harold was holding a stinking, tangled vagrant as a prisoner.

"Stay still! Don't move!"

Harold shouted sternly, trying to project an image of authority as a law enforcement officer, and pressed the homeless man onto the interrogation chair.

The homeless man, on the other hand, seemed completely unconcerned, even somewhat content.

For these Seattle deadbeats, going to jail is hardly a punishment.

It's raining outside, cold and damp. Coming in means losing my freedom, but at least there's heating, a free sandwich, and maybe even a hot shower.

It's practically a free vacation.

Lyon understood it at a glance.

Harold was definitely trying to pull off something big right from the start, but Ward held him back.

To teach him a lesson, I specifically made him bring back a homeless person who urinates or defecates indiscriminately or disturbs public order.

Generally, these kinds of people are caught and given a ticket in a formulaic way, locked up for a day or two, and then released. Those who come in every day to freeload are usually locked up in solitary confinement for a day without food, and then released.

These kinds of cases require no technical skill and won't generate any revenue, but the paperwork and procedures involved in handling them are absolutely essential.

This is a trick that veterans use to torment arrogant newbies—wanting to be a super cop?

Okay, let's clean up this mess of poop and pee first.

But Harold clearly didn't realize this.

After he finished handcuffing the homeless man, he looked up and saw Leon and Mia over there.

Three

Three young, strong robbers with gang connections were being held in custody.

Then look at the old homeless man in your hand who's still grinning foolishly at you.

Harold's eyes instantly turned red.

In his view, Lyon was just lucky to have stumbled upon a big fish, or perhaps he had used some underhanded methods, while he, a regular soldier, was stuck dealing with garbage.

He wiped his face and walked over with a sarcastic tone:

"Hey, Officer Vance, what a haul!"

"Catch three at once? You didn't just stake out some middle school, did you? These kids look like they're still being fed."

"Unlike us, we have a lot more trouble. We have to deal with these hard-to-clean things that threaten the city's sanitation."

Harold had just finished his taunt, and before Leon could respond, the homeless man sitting in the interrogation chair, who had been looking quite content, suddenly reacted.

Suddenly, he took a deep breath.

"Achoo—!!!"

A loud sneeze exploded right in front of Harold's face.

Because the distance was so close, this mouthful of indescribable, aged acid covered Harold's fair face evenly.

Oh, there are chives in there too!

The air fell into a deathly silence.