April 9, 2021. 18:40. Burnaby.
Today had been a busy day. No—scratch that. It had been brutal.
Cyberpsychosis cases were spiking, gang tensions simmered in the lower mainland, and a new street drug was flooding the underworld. Anyone watching the news would've been worried—but for Liam, chief of the Vancouver Police Department, worry didn't begin to cover it.
It was a logistical nightmare, and he didn't have nearly enough officers to manage it all.
The hum of the crowded mall pressed in from every direction. Neon advertisements pulsed across digital billboards; vendors shouted over one another, hawking cheap noodles and overpriced coffee; the mingled scents of grease, spice, and caffeine clung to the air.
Noise kept Liam from nodding off, but only just. Every bone in his body protested after another sleepless, back-to-back shift.
"Where is she?" He muttered, leaning against the tiled wall of a restaurant. Aching shoulders rolled in a futile attempt to ease the tension that never seemed to fade. Sleep hadn't come easily in weeks—or maybe months—and his body made sure the debt was felt in full.
Exhaustion had carved its mark into his face: dark circles shadowing his brown eyes, a rough beard from too many skipped shaves, and shoulder-length hair that had gone from "a little long" to "definitely a problem."
A thin scar traced from above his brow to the metallic bridge of his cybernetic nose. The rest of his face was still flesh, still his—mostly. Once a near-fatal injury, now just another reminder that survival always came at a price.
Liam rubbed the spot where skin met metal and exhaled. "Maybe I should book a haircut."
His stomach growled in protest. Right—food. That was the reason he was here, waiting for the others, though there was no telling when they'd actually show.
The familiar vibration in his pocket broke his thoughts. A sigh escaped him as he pulled out his phone and thumbed through the flood of notifications. The glow of the screen painted his tired features as headline after headline flickered past.
GANG TURF WAR INTENSIFIES IN METRO VANCOUVER—BURNABY SEES SPILLOVER VIOLENCE.
Swipe.
VPD STRETCHED THIN—CHIEF LIAM WOODS FACES CALLS FOR EXPANSION INTO SURREY.
Another swipe.
NEW SYNTHETIC STIMULANT 'SYNTHCOKE' LINKED TO RISING CYBERPSYCHOSIS CASES.
Liam's jaw clenched. The VPD was barely holding Vancouver and Burnaby together as it was. And Mayor Gestalt's dream of expanding operations into Richmond and Surrey? A noble ideal—with no bodies to back it up. Patrols were already ghosts in half the districts.
He dragged a hand through his hair, the weight of it all pressing down like the neon glare overhead.
"What the hell am I supposed to do?" he murmured.
"Rough day?" A calm voice cut through Liam's thoughts.
He turned, a bit startled.
A man stood beside him—white, average build, medium height, dark hair, a kind yet weathered face. The kind of person you'd pass on the street without a second glance. He held a cup of coffee in one hand, the other tucked in the pocket of a well-worn jacket.
There was a pause. Then the stranger smiled, small but genuine.
"You're Chief Woods, right?"
Liam raised an eyebrow.
"I keep up with the news," the man added quickly. "And you've been in a lot of it lately."
Liam sighed, sliding his phone back into his pocket. "Yeah. That'd be me."
"I didn't mean to intrude. You just look like you could use a distraction."
Liam studied him for a long moment. Normally, random advice from strangers wasn't his thing. But there was something disarming about this one. Maybe it was the calm tone. Or perhaps it was the exhaustion eating away at his guard.
With a low chuckle, Liam leaned back against the wall. "Sure. Not like I've got anything better to do right now."
The man nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. "It's a mess out there, huh?"
"That's one way to put it."
Liam wasn't about to start rattling off classified details, but he didn't need to—the public already knew enough. Between cyberpsychosis spikes, gangs getting bolder, and the city's police force stretched across too many fronts, it wasn't hard to guess the kind of stress he was under.
"Let me guess," the man said, eyes drifting across the crowd. "Too many problems, not enough hands to fix them."
A wry smirk tugged at Liam's mouth. "You a detective?"
The man chuckled, shaking his head. "Just a guy who pays attention."
"Well," Liam muttered, "you're not wrong. We're holding the line, but it's thin. Everyone wants us to do more—expand, cover more ground, stretch even thinner while we're running on fumes."
"Ah, into Surrey and Richmond, right?"
"Yeah… that's been the goal for a while." Liam tilted his head, curiosity flickering across his face. "You ever seen something like this elsewhere?"
"I work in logistics." The man shrugged. "Different field, same problem, I guess." He shifted to lean against the wall, mirroring Liam's posture. "Too many demands, not enough resources. You're never gonna satisfy everyone."
"Hah… ain't that the truth?"
Silence settled between them—not awkward, just steady. For once, Liam found himself easing up, shoulders unknotting. It was rare, relaxing like this anywhere outside his own home. But then a thought formed, curiosity nudging through the quiet.
"If you don't mind me asking," he said, "what do you think's the biggest priority right now? The gang wars, the cyberpsychos, or SynthCoke?"
The man paused mid-sip, thinking it over before answering. "The drugs. Hands down."
"Really? Not the cyberpsychos? Or the gang war?" Liam raised an eyebrow. He hadn't expected a particular answer, but he was curious about the man's reasoning. "Elaborate."
"They're dangerous, sure. But let me ask you—what do you think parents worry about most?"
"All of it, no? Gang wars drag in kids, cyberpsychos kill at random, and SynthCoke… Well, we all know how bad that is. Just look at the headlines."
"A fair point, but here's another way to see it. Cyberpsychos are scary, but they're local. People tell themselves, 'Avoid the hotspots, stay indoors, we're fine'. Gang violence? Same thing. 'My kid's not in a gang, so they'll be okay'. But drugs…"
"They're different?"
"They're everywhere. Kids can be warned about bad neighborhoods or told to steer clear of gang types, but what happens at school or parties is another story. Friends try it, dealers slip out samples. Someone will always sneak it in."
"Hm." Liam folded his arms, tapping a finger against his elbow as the thought rolled around in his head.
The man watched him carefully, sipping what was left of his coffee.
"I'm not saying the other problems don't matter," he continued. "But from my point of view? Cut off the supply, and you don't just make people feel safer—you actually make them safer. In the process, you hit the gangs that distribute it, slow the violence, maybe even stop a few people from overdosing and turning into the next cyberpsychos."
"So, you're saying if we take out SynthCoke, we hit everything else in the process?"
"Not necessarily or directly. But I believe it'll make things—even if it's just a fraction—easier." The man drained his cup and tossed it into a nearby bin. "At the end of the day, you're the cop, not me," he said with a shrug. "I'm just telling you what I'd focus on if I were in your shoes."
Liam nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Not a bad answer. I appreciate the perspective."
"Of course. Just speaking from experience." The man's tone softened. "Problems like these—they're never as black and white as people think. I'm sure you'll make the right call, regardless of what the media says." He smirked slightly, extending a hand. "Name's John, by the way."
"Liam."
The two men then shook hands.
Before either of them could say another word, a familiar voice cut through the noise—a voice that instantly softened something in Liam's chest.
"Dad?"
He turned. Erica stood a few feet away, her expression caught somewhere between confusion and amusement. Beside her, Jamie looked just as surprised.
"You're late, slowpoke," Liam said, raising an eyebrow in mock disapproval. "What took you so long?"
"We got sidetracked," Erica laughed, scratching the back of her neck before glancing between him and John. "…Wait. You two know each other?"
"Uh… no, we just met," Liam replied.
Jamie tilted her head toward him, then waved past him. "Hi, Dad."
Liam blinked. "…What?"
John grinned, returning the wave. "Hey, kiddo."
"You're Jamie's father?!" Liam's jaw dropped, the realization slamming into him all at once.
Erica burst out laughing, clapping her hands like she'd just witnessed the punchline of a perfect joke. "That's hilarious! Oh, wow."
"Small world, huh?" John smirked, giving Liam a friendly nudge. "Shall we head in for food?"
For a moment, Liam just stood there, blinking between Erica and John before finally pinching the bridge of his nose. "Right," he sighed.
He led the group toward the restaurant entrance, muttering under his breath, "Dinner just got a lot more interesting."