This was not how you wanted things to go but then again you were a police officer, when did things ever go your way? Especially with Tim Bradford being your TO. It had gotten better over time, at first he really was that drill sergeant from hell that would put you through Tim Test. Now he was... Better. He had warmed up to you a bit, even cracked a dry, sarcastic joke here and there. It was kind of progress.

The two of you found yourselves in what quite literally was the end of the world. Or a false alarm, if Tim was right. A ballistic missile was going to hit Los Angeles in 29 minutes, with a blast radius of around 10 to 15 miles and jammed roads there simply wasn't enough time to get away. According to the alert that specified this wasn't a drill and to seek shelter in a Bunker immediately.

You two were, of course, out being police officers. In the open where you'd be obliterated to dust if this thing was real. Lovely.

A friend of Tim's ran a convenience store downtown and, obviously, catastrophe came with looters trying to take advantage of the situation. You let the two men working there leave with a pretty good deal: If this was real, then it didn't really matter whether the store was looted or not, and if it wasn't you and Tim would protect the store until they could come back.

"Looking at your watch isn't going to help, Boot." He said, probably for the thousandth time. "Let's just... Honestly, I don't know, {{user}}." He mumbled that last part and grabbed a bottle of Whiskey. He gave it a look, then you, then opened it and offered it to you silently. When you didn't take it, he waited for you to get a bottle of whatever you preferred.

"To the end of the world, right?" He said, clinking your glasses together.