You're a US police officer, what are you thinking about going back to the East for?

"puff……"

Lyon was about to retort, but this was just too sudden and too entertaining.

He couldn't help but burst out laughing, his shoulders shaking violently, almost dropping the coffee in his hand.

Even Mia, who had been in a slump, widened her eyes in surprise.

She then bit her lip hard, turned her face to the side, and her body twitched, clearly using all her willpower to suppress her laughter.

"Aaaaaah! Fuck! You bastard!"

Harold finally realized what was happening, letting out a scream like a little girl, frantically wiping his face with his sleeve, on the verge of a breakdown.

Just as he was about to continue yelling at the homeless man, a large hand grabbed him by the back of his collar.

Ward, who had been watching coldly from the sidelines, finally made a move.

"Alright, stop making a fool of yourself here."

Ward's voice was deep and hoarse as he pulled the still-frenzied Harold back like a chick, and said irritably,

"Go wash up in the bathroom right away, then go fill out the detention form. Don't expect me to fill it out for you."

After dealing with his disgraceful apprentice, Ward turned to look at Lyon.

Although his gloomy face was expressionless, he raised his hand and gave Leon a thumbs up.

"You've worked hard, and it's a bumper harvest!"

Ward glanced at the three gangsters who had already been taken away. Although his tone was calm, he seemed quite approving.

"Same here, you have it tough too, taking care of a child is physically demanding."

Lyon returned the greeting with a smile, his eyes lingering on Harold's disheveled figure, a meaningful glance in his eyes.

Ward shook his head helplessly, probably thinking that the character was ruined, and then dragged Harold, who was still cursing, towards the office area.

Although the two didn't exchange many words, they had a very good understanding of each other.

At the Seattle precinct, Ward was a "(PO-III) Officer Level 3", which means he was a fully qualified Senior Officer Tolerant (FTO).

Lyon, however, is only a "Police Officer Level 2 (PO-II)," which means he shouldn't be qualified to mentor new recruits.

But that's just how things are within the system.

Although Lyon's experience appears intermittent due to frequent vacations.

But his case closure rate, support rate, and ability to handle high-risk police situations have long surpassed those low-level officers in the branch office who are just coasting along.

It was only because he had been with the company for too short a year and lacked seniority, coupled with the fact that there were many shooting incidents, which was a very sensitive issue, that he was not directly promoted to the third-level police officer.

As for having him, a second-level police officer, mentor a new recruit, it was an exceptional arrangement made by the higher-ups.

It could even be said that they are already grooming him as a future SWAT team or major crime unit prospect.

Only a clueless fool like Harold, who doesn't even understand the ranking of the officers in the bureau, would think that Leon is just an ordinary patrolman who got lucky, and dare to come and taunt him so blatantly.

"What a poor child."

Leon looked in the direction Harold had disappeared and clicked his tongue twice.

"Sir, I think he might need to get a rabies vaccine more."

Mia added quietly from the side.

"Let's go, it's time we enjoyed some paperwork too."

Leon clapped his hands and led Mia to the desk.

This is the graveyard of all street heroes—the document section.

Leon pulled up an office chair, plopped down, and casually slammed the three suspect files onto the table.

"Alright, Torres"

Lyon crossed his legs and pointed to the pile of forms.

"Outside, I was in charge of charging into battle, and you were in charge of looking beautiful and watching the show. Now it's time to pay the bill."

"This is the arrest report, the list of seized evidence, the instructions on the use of force, and the personal information collection forms for those three unfortunate guys... a whole three documents!"

Mia's face fell instantly when she saw the pile of forms.

"Sir..."

She flipped through the documents casually; she was already sick of writing this many. Seeing them brought back unpleasant memories from her time at the insurance company, and she immediately put on her mask of pain.

"Sir, are you serious? Shouldn't the lead person fill out the main form for these kinds of group cases, while the assistants fill out the supplementary forms?"

"This is enough for three people. It will take two hours just to fill it all out. My fingers will break..."

"And why should I, a weak newbie, have to do all this work...?"

"Um--?"

Leon raised an eyebrow sharply, his nasal tone drawing out once more, the unspoken message being that he was about to begin acting.

The laziness on his face vanished instantly, replaced by a look of deep remorse, as if he had truly been offended.

"Officer Torres! Did I hear that right? You're complaining?"

Where has that drive to shine in your role gone? Where has your passion gone?

As Lyon spoke, he casually grabbed an unfilled "New Police Officer On-Site Training Assessment Form" from the side.

He held a ballpoint pen in his hand, and gestured in the air towards the table.

"You need to understand that paperwork is the soul of police law enforcement."

"Like this evaluation form, it is also a form of paperwork."

"Look, this section on work attitude and stress resistance is still blank..."

"As your supervising officer, I really don't want to accidentally fill in 'unqualified,' since this is directly related to whether you pass your probation period."

Mia stared at the evaluation form waving in front of her, and the complaint she was about to utter instantly caught in her throat.

"Cough, cough!"

She coughed violently twice, and the pain on her face instantly switched back to that resolute expression full of false brilliance.

"No, sir, you misheard!"

Mia snatched the pile of arrest reports.

"I mean, this is amazing! I'm so excited! I love forms, I love filling in the blanks!"

"For justice, for Seattle, I'd smash this keyboard to pieces!"

Leon watched her nonchalant acting and nodded in satisfaction. It was quite amusing to have someone join him in spouting nonsense with such a straight face.

He cooperated with a serious expression:

"Very good, I knew I hadn't misjudged you, Mia."

"This passion for paperwork is the cornerstone of becoming an excellent detective."

"Come on, I'm not a devil. I'll teach you how to fill out this first one step by step."

"You need to learn how to write 'We tripped the suspect' as 'The suspect lost his balance and fell, sustaining minor abrasions upon contact with the ground during the fall.'"

"I understand, I understand perfectly, he hit your fist with his own face!"

Mia responded sweetly, uncapped her pen, and began to write furiously.

……

The other side of Seattle

Old Bob parked his 1-Adam-12 patrol car near an intersection, held a cup of now-cold black coffee in his hand, and let out a satisfied burp.

He glanced sideways at Miller, who was sitting upright in the passenger seat, his eyes still darting around.

"Relax, kid."

Bob took a sip of his cold coffee, the bitterness jolting him awake. "Don't stare like that. We're patrol officers, not Hawkeye."

"I know what you're thinking. You want to copy Vance's style, don't you?"

"I want that too, I also think that feeling of being a legend is cool. But that's talent, he's God's favorite."

"For ordinary people like us, if we want to stay in this position and receive a full pension, we need to learn another art."

Miller sat in the passenger seat, holding a notebook, nodding as if he understood but not quite:

"But... Senior Bob, don't we need to patrol? Sergeant Danfoss said lately that he's under a lot of pressure to meet the targets?"

"You know the pressure to meet targets is immense, right?"

Bob shook his head. "Listen, Miller, this is my second lesson for you: what constitutes proper slacking off."

"True slacking off isn't about finding a place to bury your head and sleep soundly, ignoring everything and asking no questions—that's just courting death."

"If Sergeant Danfoss sees that your monthly penalty record is zero, he'll burn you to ashes like a fire-breathing dragon."

"If you want to coast through the workday, you have to learn how to generate revenue for the bureau."