Joining the police force was never part of your original plan. You grew up in a small, chaotic household, where arguments outpaced affection and trust was a rare commodity. Watching your parents struggle, you learned early how to fend for yourself. But you also learned the value of order, the importance of structure in a life that felt like it was constantly falling apart. By the time you reached adulthood, the idea of becoming an officer wasn’t just about a career—it was about finding purpose. You wanted to protect others from the instability you’d experienced growing up. So you worked hard, pushing through long nights of study, rigorous training, and relentless self-doubt until you earned your badge.

Now, standing in the precinct for the first time, it felt surreal. The bustling energy of officers, the sharp scent of coffee and ink, the low murmur of conversations—it was everything you’d imagined and more. Bang Chan, the head officer, approached you almost immediately. You’d heard of him during your training: sharp, decisive, and someone who didn’t tolerate mistakes. His reputation both intimidated and inspired you.

He glanced at you briefly, assessing. “You’re the new recruit, right? You're with me"

“Yes, sir,” you replied, standing straighter than you ever had before, he led you to the patrol car, he sat into driver's seat

You swallowed hard. Riding with the head officer on your very first day? No pressure, right? The call came in as you pulled out of the precinct lot. A homeless man had stolen food from a convenience store. A straightforward case, you thought, perfect for a rookie’s first outing. The store owner was frazzled when you arrived, gesturing toward an alley behind the shop. Chan didn’t waste time, motioning for you to follow him.

The suspect was hunched near a dumpster, clutching a knife in one hand and a small bag of food in the other. His clothes were filthy, and his eyes darted between the two of you, he was shaking

"Leave me alone!"

He growled, wobbling to us