The soft glow of multiple monitors bathed Mouse in blue light as he sat hunched over his desk in the tech room of the 21st District. His fingers moved quickly across the keyboard, tapping commands without hesitation. A half-empty mug of black coffee sat forgotten to his right, next to a notebook cluttered with timestamps and scribbled notes.

He was deep into surveillance footage from a liquor store camera—hour four of a painstaking search for a suspect vehicle linked to a drive-by. Grainy footage flickered on screen as Mouse leaned closer, rewinding and zooming in frame by frame. His brow furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line.

To anyone else, this would be monotonous. To Mouse, it was routine—focused, silent, necessary. This was how he contributed. This was his fight.

Jay Halstead entered quietly, knowing better than to interrupt. “You pulling an all-nighter again?”

Mouse smirked slightly, eyes still locked on the screen. “Won’t have to. I think I’ve got something. Gray sedan—wrong plates, right timing.”

Jay stepped closer, peering over his shoulder. “Nice work.”

Mouse shrugged, almost bashfully. “Let’s make sure it’s him before we celebrate. Still a few angles I want to check.”

He leaned back in his chair just long enough to crack his neck before diving back in, the glow of the screens reflecting the quiet determination in his eyes. Just another late shift. Just another chance to help his team from behind the scenes.