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

Leon raised an eyebrow, his gaze shifting between Harrison and the group of oddballs around him.

It was obvious that when Harrison spoke up, Jacob, who was still groaning on the ground, immediately shut up, and Carlos stopped jumping around like a monkey.

It seems that this deputy team leader, who looks like he's about to die suddenly, may not be very domineering, but he still has some authority in maintaining the basic operation of this mental hospital.

"Nice to meet you"

Lyon reached out and grasped Harrison's hand, which was covered in nicotine stains, with just the right amount of pressure—neither too forceful nor too overly polite.

"Now that there's someone here who can communicate normally, things are much easier."

Leon let go of her hand, not caring about the dirt, and pulled over a swivel chair to sit down.

"Mia, find somewhere to stay and don't block the way."

After getting rid of the errand boy, Leon took out a cigarette, and Harrison casually took out a lighter to light it for him, then lit one for himself, clearly having done it many times before.

"Tell me about it, Sergeant Harrison."

Leon exhaled a smoke ring, looking through the smoke at the颓废 (颓废 is a difficult word to translate directly, but it implies a state of being decadent, dispirited, or颓废) middle-aged man.

"Chief Sterling's briefing to me was all bureaucratic jargon. I want to hear some human language."

"What's the situation here? How many people live here? How do they survive? And..."

He lowered his voice, his expression somewhat meaningful:

"Just how lenient are the rules here?"

Harrison sighed, and instead of answering immediately, he went over and locked the office door from the inside. Then, he picked up a bottle of whiskey from the table and filled two disposable paper cups to the brim.

"Sir, welcome to the Seattle Police Department's sewers."

Harrison pushed the paper cup to Leon, tilted his head back, and took a large gulp. He coughed twice, choking on the strong liquor, and only then did a little color return to his tired face.

"Currently, there are fourteen people in total in terms of staffing."

"Besides you, me, and the one you brought, there are eleven other operation specialists."

"As you just saw, Jacob is in charge of assault and tanking, Carlos is in charge of driving and intelligence, and Kevin is in charge of technical support... although he spends most of his time mining or downloading movies on the bureau's servers."

"The remaining few"

Harrison pointed to a few people who were still sleeping or spacing out in the corner.

"Either he had too many complaints about excessive force in his original department and no one dared to hire him, or he had gambling debts or some other mess, but he was capable enough, so he was reassigned here."

In short, everyone in the group is a villain.

Harrison chuckled self-deprecatingly.

"We don't have fixed working hours. Generally speaking, it's from 4 PM to 4 AM."

"Because only at this time will the prey we're looking for crawl out of its burrow."

"As for the job duties..."

The official statement is that this is a special crackdown targeting high-risk gang crime and drug trafficking.

"Actually? We're more like cleaners with a legal license to kill."

At this point, Harrison flicked his cigarette ash, then suddenly tilted his head and asked a question.

"Boss, you've probably heard about that smuggling incident with the Baltimore Police Department a few years ago, right? That infamous Gun Tracking Task Force (GTTF)?"

Leon raised an eyebrow, said nothing, and gestured for him to continue.

"Wayne Jenkins and his gang. They were our... well, the industry benchmark in a sense."

"On the surface, they're an elite anti-gun squad, but in reality, they're just robbers wearing police badges."

"Stop the drug dealers' car, turn off the body cameras, steal their money and goods, then hand over some of it and pocket most of it."

"If anyone resists? Then kill them, then frame them with a BB gun and claim you were frightened and acted in self-defense."

"Although those idiots ended up in jail for their insatiable greed, the principle still holds true."

"In the current environment, those Gestapo agents from ICE (Immigration and Customs Enforcement) can execute legal U.S. citizens in broad daylight and even receive federal bonuses for it."

"In comparison, what about us? We were very restrained."

"Most of the people we deal with are gang thugs, homeless people nobody cares about, or scumbags that everyone knows are guilty but the law can't touch."

"In Seattle in the early morning, if someone like this suddenly disappears or is found rotting in a sewer, no one will bother to investigate."

"The city hall might even be secretly pleased that they've missed out on issuing one less relief payment."

Harrison spoke while observing Lyon's expression, trying to ascertain whether his new superior could accept this level of unspoken rule.

However, Lyon's reaction was much more subdued than he had expected.

In fact, he's a bit too knowledgeable.

"Go on."

He casually shook the paper cup in his hand, his face showing not shock but rather an expression of understanding that this was indeed the procedure.

"I'm familiar with this. I've dealt with those outsourced companies that handle the cleanup when I was dealing with night shift incidents before."

"Is it that company called Ren'ai Bio or some other random name? That Asian student named Alex talked to me about it."

Lyon's lips curled into a playful smile, and he made his intentions clear from the start.

"As far as I know, these body collectors aren't just doing their jobs for nothing; they know how to cater to different clients."

"If the body we leave at the scene is relatively intact and the organs are fresh, they will not only take it away for free, but also give the brothers a referral fee or a donation subsidy."

"But if we go too far and break someone to pieces, making them unusable, then we'll have to pay for the cleaning out of our own pockets."

"Sometimes when gangsters make a mess of things themselves, they'll pay a lot of money to have them clean up the mess, right?"

"Although they mainly collect corpses from homeless people and illegal immigrants."

Harrison listened, completely stunned.

He originally thought he was explaining the law of the jungle to the newcomer, but he didn't expect that the person had not only seen the jungle before, but also knew it inside and out.

This guy...

What exactly is their background?

Why does he look even darker than he did during his five years at ACU?

"Cough cough..."

Harrison choked on the smoke, awkwardly rubbing his nose, his initial tentative intentions completely vanished.

"Sir, you're a true expert."

"Since you know everything, then I won't hide anything from you."

He downed the rest of his whiskey in one gulp, crumpled the paper cup, and threw it in the trash.

"This is how we survive."

"They dump the tough nuts the patrol officers can't handle on us. They dump the people who need to disappear without evidence on us."

"rule?"

Harrison pointed out the window. "Beyond this door, our rule is no rule."

"Arrests don't require Miranda Kerr, and interrogations don't need lawyers. As long as the final report is logically sound, no one will ask why the suspect accidentally broke three ribs in the detention cell."

At this point, Harrison rubbed his fingers together, making a universally recognized money-counting gesture.

"The fixed salary from the city hall isn't even enough to buy Jacob protein powder; we have our own 'operation fund'."

"Like we just said, if the cash on the table isn't captured on camera when we raid a drug den, that's our overtime pay. If a seized sports car is ownerless, we just repaint it and it becomes our patrol car."

"Of course, the lion's share has to be handed over to bribe the Ministry of Internal Affairs and the prosecutors, as well as as part of performance metrics. The rest, we'll divide."

After hearing this, Lyon didn't react much. He simply flicked his cigarette ash, picked up the paper cup, took a sip of the cheap whiskey, and then frowned in disgust.

"The wine is terrible."

"Next time, get something better. Since we're all risking our lives for money, let's not be stingy when it comes to treating ourselves well."

"As for my rules..."

Lyon stood up and patted Harrison on the shoulder.

"As long as you don't escalate the situation to the point where even Chief Sterling can't clean up the mess, I don't care how you do it."

"But one thing, don't treat me like a fool."

"I need to see the ledgers, the internal kind, not because I'm greedy, but because I'm the boss. Understand?"

Harrison paused for a moment, then a genuine, relieved smile finally appeared on his long, brooding face.

As long as there isn't some kind of internal purge where someone says, "I'm going to send you all to jail," this new boss seems pretty good.

"Understood, boss."

Harrison straightened up, his tone much more respectful this time.

"The ledger is with Kevin; you can check it anytime."

"very good."