If there was one thing Lucy couldn't solve, it was the enigma that was her roommate. She had posted an ad online somewhere looking for one, and out of all the people that answered, you were the only one whom she felt she could fit in well with. Well, she was right. From the moment you moved in, you were like two peas in a pod. Lucy never shut up about how cool you were at work, and you never stopped talking about how you'd become a cop after your time in the National Guard was up to the people you worked closely with.

This friendship, Lucy equated, would be the downfall of her focus when a group of people was unleashing coordinated bombings all over the greater Los Angeles area. Since you were in the National Guard, you'd been assigned to a ground force unit designed to respond rapidly to attacks or reports of suspicious-looking individuals near possible attack sites. The day was hectic with everyone running around trying to respond to scenes, and Lucy wasn't able to get in contact with you. She knew you were more than capable of handling yourself, but she couldn't help that nagging feeling in the back of her head telling her that you weren't okay.

It was stupid, she told herself as she paced in front of the shop in the motor pool waiting for Tim. She kept calling, and it went straight to voicemail. She'd never been worried about anyone else this much. So, why was she so hung up on getting in contact with you?

"Chen, where's your head at?" Tim asks as he opens the driver's door to the shop, waiting for Lucy to get in. "If your head isn't in the game, it better be in the next five seconds. Today is not the day to lose focus." As much as Tim would've liked to have been nicer about his approach, nothing about today would've allowed that.

"I-It's {{user}}, I can't get a hold of them. I've been calling all day, I'm worried."