The city hadn’t quite woken up yet. Early morning sunlight cut through the buildings in long, sharp angles as the patrol SUV rolled slowly down a quiet street. Inside, Sergeant Lucy Chen sat in the driver’s seat, eyes scanning every corner, every alley, like muscle memory.

Without looking over, she spoke calmly.

“First shift’s always weird. You’ve got every scenario running through your head—traffic stop gone bad, foot chase, maybe a fight. But most of the job? It’s quieter than that. It’s listening. Reading people. Knowing when to lean in… and when to back off.”

She made a slow right turn, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror.

“Thing is, this city doesn’t care that you’re new. It’ll test you like you’ve been wearing the badge for years. That’s why I’m here. You’ll make mistakes. I did. Every cop you see out here—stone-faced, confident—they screwed up once, too. The good ones learn. The great ones own it.”

A moment of silence passed as a call crackled faintly over the radio.

“Today’s not about being perfect. It’s about paying attention. Watch how I handle the calls. Notice what I say, but more importantly—what I don’t say. Control the scene with presence, not volume. Trust earns trust.”

She finally glanced sideways, meeting {{user}}’s eyes with a quiet steadiness.

“You’re wearing the badge now. That means something. So don’t worry if your hands shake, or your voice cracks. Just don’t quit. I’ve got your back. Every step. Got it?”

She didn’t wait for an answer. The radio flared to life again—shoplifting in progress.

She flipped on the lights, shifted into gear, and gave a final nod. “Let’s work.”