Chapter 5: The First Save
Wednesday, April 25, 2018 - Warehouse District
The radio crackled with coordinated movements. Three teams, one suspect, a maze of abandoned industrial buildings that smelled like rust and old oil.
"Team One, north entrance secured." Tim Bradford's voice came through clear and professional.
Lopez keyed her radio. "Team Two, taking west position."
I checked my gear for the third time. Standard felony stop—armed robbery suspect had barricaded himself in the old manufacturing complex after a botched liquor store holdup. Twenty-year-old kid with a gun and no exit strategy.
Bishop's voice: "Team Three moving to east entrance. West, Nolan, with me."
My chest tightened. Not the lie detection. Something else. The danger sense I'd been learning to recognize, distinguish from normal anxiety. This felt different—directional, pulling my attention east even though we were heading west.
Something's wrong.
"Lopez." I kept my voice low. "East team—"
"Our assignment is west, boot. Focus."
We moved through the complex perimeter. Broken windows reflected gray sky. Graffiti covered everything—tags, territorial markings, the usual urban decay. Lopez moved with practiced efficiency, weapon ready, checking corners.
The pressure in my chest intensified. Not about our position. Somewhere else. The danger sense was screaming now, and for the first time, it had direction.
East. Jackson.
"Lopez, we need to back up the east team."
She stopped. "Say again?"
"East team. Something feels wrong."
"Mercer, we have an assignment. We don't abandon—"
"Please." The word came out desperate. My hands shook. The danger sense was overwhelming, drowning out everything else. "Something's wrong with Jackson. I know it. I can't explain how, but I know."
Lopez studied my face. Whatever she saw there made her decision.
"Grey, Team Two requesting permission to reinforce Team Three." She waited. Static. Then Grey's voice, tense: "Approved. Teams One and Two converge on east entrance."
We ran.
Jackson West's POV
The warehouse entrance yawned dark and empty. Bishop had said wait for backup, but the suspect was right there—movement in the shadows, someone trying to slip deeper into the building.
You can do this. You're trained. You're ready.
"I've got eyes on suspect," I radioed. "Pursuing into structure."
"West, hold position." Bishop's voice sharp. "Wait for—"
But I was already moving. Three weeks of training, all those drills, finally getting to prove I belonged here. Not just the commander's son. A real cop.
The interior was darker than expected. My flashlight cut through dust and shadows. Rows of old machinery created blind spots everywhere. My heart hammered against my ribs.
"LAPD! Show yourself!"
Movement to my right. I pivoted—
The suspect stepped from behind a rusted conveyor belt. Gun already raised. Pointed at my chest.
Time stopped.
Oh god. Oh god, I'm going to die.
"DROP IT!" someone screamed from behind me.
Gunfire. The sound bounced off metal and concrete, deafening. The suspect dropped. I dropped too, training kicking in, covering my head even though the threat was already down.
Hands grabbed my shoulders. Mercer's face, pale and terrified, inches from mine.
"You okay? Jackson, are you hit?"
"I—no. I don't think—"
Lopez swept past us, weapon trained on the downed suspect. Bishop and Nolan burst through the entrance, weapons drawn.
"Clear!" Lopez shouted. "Suspect down, officer safe."
My hands wouldn't stop shaking.
Ethan's POV
The adrenaline crash hit in the locker room. My hands trembled so badly I couldn't work my combination lock. Jackson sat on the bench across from me, still processing.
He stood. Walked over. Didn't say anything, just extended his hand.
I gripped it. His hand was steadier than mine now.
"Thank you," he said quietly. "You saved my life."
"Lopez took the shot."
"Because you got her there. You knew." His eyes searched my face. "How did you know?"
Because I've seen this show. Because I know you die in Season 4 if I don't stop it. Because I have powers I can't explain and I'm terrified of what they mean.
"Lucky guess," I said.
He didn't believe me. But he squeezed my hand once more and let go. The debt was acknowledged. Unspoken, but real.
Angela Lopez's POV - Sergeant Grey's Office
Grey listened to my report without interrupting. When I finished, he leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled.
"Officer Mercer insisted on abandoning his assigned position," Grey said, "to back up a team that didn't request assistance."
"Yes, sir."
"Based on a feeling."
"Yes, sir."
"And if you hadn't responded, Officer West would likely be dead."
I met his eyes. "Yes, sir. The suspect had the drop on him. Another second and West wouldn't have had time to react."
Grey's eyebrow—that evaluating, measuring expression—rose slowly. "This is the second time in two weeks Mercer's had a 'lucky break' that saved an officer. First the knife on his first day, now this."
"His instincts are exceptional."
"Instincts." Grey tested the word. "Is that what we're calling it?"
"I don't know what else to call it, sir. But I trust him. He's solid in the field, follows orders, and when he breaks protocol, it's to save lives."
"Keep an eye on that one, Lopez." Grey's expression was unreadable. "He's either very good or very lucky. Haven't decided which yet."
"Does it matter, sir? As long as he gets results?"
Grey's silence was answer enough.
Thursday Evening, April 26, 2018 - Mid-Wilshire Station
Nolan caught me at my locker. "Beer at your place tomorrow night? Figure we've survived two weeks. That's worth celebrating."
"My place?"
"You have that huge house. Might as well use it." His smile was pure Nolan—earnest and undemanding. "Unless you'd rather keep it private?"
They don't know. They know I have money, but they don't know about the mansion.
"Sure. Tomorrow night. After shift."
"Great! I'll tell the others." He was already walking away, pulling out his phone.
Others. Plural. This is happening.
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