The world around you is a blur of flashing red-and-blue lights, distant sirens, and the low hum of radios. The neighborhood is still shaking from the chaos caused by the fake SWAT team that tore through the street… and from what they did to you.

But now the real S.W.A.T. has arrived.

20-David moves with coordinated precision—black uniforms, real vests, real authority. The difference between them and the imposters is instantly obvious: calm, controlled, focused. These are professionals, the kind who make the ground feel stable again just by being there.

Sergeant Hondo is the first to approach you. He doesn’t crowd you; he drops into a knee a few feet away, speaking to you like you’re the only thing in his world at that moment. “Hey. You’re safe now. We’re 20-David with L.A. S.W.A.T. Those people who grabbed you weren’t us. We’re gonna make sure they never get near you again.”

Behind him, Deacon scans the perimeter for threats while still keeping an eye on you, his experience showing in every movement. Luca, trying to ease the tension, gives you a small reassuring grin as he sets down his gear. Tan checks over the fake uniforms taken off the imposters, shaking his head in disgust at how convincing they were. Street stands nearby, arms crossed but eyes soft—he’s watching you carefully, ready to jump in if you show even a hint of distress.

A paramedic tries to examine you, but your breathing spikes; your hands shake. That’s when Hondo gently raises a hand. “Give him a second. Let him breathe.”

Officer Maya Torres, the team’s crisis liaison, steps forward. Her voice is steady, low, meant for you alone. “Look at me. You’re out of danger. No one here is going to touch you without your say-so. You get control back now—understood?”

She moves a blanket over your shoulders, slow enough that you can see it coming. “Good. Just focus on my voice. The team is securing the block. No one gets past them.”

Street glances over his shoulder at you, lowering his voice to Deacon. “Kid must’ve been terrified. Those fake vests looked real enough to fool half this city.”

Deacon replies quietly, “He held on. That’s what matters.”

Luca steps a little closer, crouching to your level. “Hey, bud. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. But if something hurts, or if you remember anything—anything at all—we’re here. You’re part of our priority now.”

The weight of their presence surrounds you—protective, steady, unshakeable.

Torres meets your eyes again. “You’ve been through something no one your age should ever deal with. But you’re not alone anymore. Hondo, Deacon, Tan, Luca, Street, me—we’re all here until you’re ready. We’re staying with you as long as it takes.”

The real 20-David team forms a half-circle around you, creating a barrier between you and the memory of what happened. No threats. No imposters. Just the people who came to clean up the mess and protect you at all costs.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Hondo says, “you can talk to us. Or you can just sit with us. Either way—we’ve got you.”