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

"Listen up! No matter who you are, no matter where you bought this number!"

Before Leon could even speak, a rapid-fire roar came from the other end of the receiver:

"I don't want to buy insurance!"

"No need for extended car warranty!"

"Don't invest in Bitcoin!"

"I don't need those magic pills that cost 998 yuan and can keep me in bed for an hour!"

"And we certainly don't need those online chat partners who sound sweet but are actually burly men picking their toes!"

"I'm exhausted right now, I feel like killing someone, so if you don't want me to hurl insults at your entire family over the phone, hang up now! Get lost!"

Lyon held the phone a little further away to avoid his eardrums being ruptured by the powerful output.

After the other person had caught their breath, he took his phone back and found it somewhat amusing:

"Inspector Raymond? Do you know who I am?"

"I don't care who you are!"

The voice on the other end sounded not only irritable but also exhausted, as if they hadn't slept all night.

"Listen, you liar. My ex-wife just swindled me out of my house and savings last week."

"Now I'm a penniless guy who lives in the office and works every day. The only valuable thing I own is this police uniform."

"I don't fall for any telecom scams because I've already encountered the biggest scammer in the world, and I'm out of money for you to keep scamming me! Understand? I'm broke!"

Leon: "..."

Has this guy gone crazy from staying up all night?

Who in their right mind would immediately accuse a stranger of being a scammer after answering their call? At least wait for them to say a few words first.

It seems that last night's chaos not only kept ACU extremely busy, but also put these office-based administrative staff through a lot of trouble.

"Wake up, Garcia."

Lyon spoke into the microphone and announced his name:

"I am Leon. Leon Vance."

There was an instant, deathly silence on the other end of the phone.

……

Seattle West Precinct, Superintendent's Office.

This place is less of an office and more of a huge junkyard of files.

Raymond Garcia, a slightly overweight middle-aged man in his forties with a receding hairline, was slumped in his office chair like a lump of mud.

Two buttons on his uniform were undone, his tie was askew, his glasses were perched on his nose, and his feet, clad in old leather shoes, were propped up unceremoniously on his desk piled high with documents, bobbing up and down with the swaying of his chair.

He was indeed on the verge of a breakdown.

Last night, he stayed up all night trying to make the flawed "counter-terrorism operation report" sound and balance the irregular financial accounts.

When that phone call came in, he was in a half-asleep, half-awake state, at the height of his morning grumpiness.

however.

The moment the name "Leon Vance" entered his ears.

Raymond's eyes, which had been narrowed to slits, suddenly widened as if he had heard a ghostly wailing.

"What the f**k?!"

He instinctively tried to sit up straight, but he forgot what position he was in.

His center of gravity, which had been leaning back for comfort, combined with his legs propped up on the table, caused him to lose his balance completely with a sudden struggle.

"Crash—Bang!!"

The office chair let out a shrill scream as its casters slipped and it tipped backward.

Raymond, chair and all, fell flat on his back onto the floor, knocking over a stack of documents half his height, burying him in the pile of papers.

"Ouch... my back..."

Raymond groaned as he got up from the pile of documents, not even bothering to straighten his crooked glasses, and frantically searched for his phone, which he had just dropped, among a pile of scrap paper.

How could he not know who Leon Vance is?!

Oh, our ancestors!

All night yesterday, every document and press release he processed had this name printed on it!

Now, everyone in Seattle, from the mayor to the police chief, from gangsters to the FBI, is watching this name.

"Feed? Feed?! Officer Vance?!"

Raymond finally got his hands on the phone. Ignoring the pain in his body, he quickly put it to his ear, his tone of agitation instantly turning into fear and caution:

"How did you get my private number?! What do you want from me?!"

"Who did you kill this time?!"

"Did the FBI come to arrest you? Or did you ram Chief Sterling's car?"

His heart was pounding.

This big Buddha statue coming directly to our door can't be anything good.

All he wants now is to get some sleep in peace and quiet, and he doesn't want to deal with any more emergencies.

"Calm down, Garcia."

Lyon's slightly mocking voice came from the other end of the phone:

"I haven't killed anyone this time, and the FBI hasn't come to arrest me. Sterling sent me to find you."

"So you really crashed her car??"

"No…"

She said, "If I have any small problems in the future, such as expense reimbursement, renting an apartment, or other administrative troubles, I can just ask you for help."

Upon hearing this, Raymond deflated like a punctured balloon, plopped down on the floor, and let out a long sigh of relief.

"call……"

"That scared me to death... It turns out it was the boss who arranged it."

Since it was Sterling, that she-devil, who sent him, it must be official business, a task that had to be done.

As long as he's not asked to go to the scene to clean up the mess or to fight the FBI with knives right now, then everything is fine.

Raymond adjusted his glasses, wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, got up from the ground, straightened the unfortunate chair, and sat back down.

"Ahem... Alright, since it's the director's idea."

"Officer Vance... oh no, Team Leader Vance."

"Let me make this clear first: although I do have some authority, I can't handle unreasonable requests, like wanting to scrap a tank or secretly bury that FBI agent Hayes."

"So, what are your specific demands?"

While rubbing his still aching lower back, Raymond held his phone between his neck and his fingers, freeing his hands to type on the keyboard and open a new reimbursement window.

"house."

Leon didn't beat around the bush and said directly:

"The place I live in now is too 'pristine'. There are drug dealers downstairs, prostitutes next door, and an addict upstairs."

"As the leader of ACU, I feel it is necessary for me to improve the living environment to ensure sufficient sleep and combat effectiveness."

"So, I need to rent a new apartment. It needs to be high-end and in a good environment. Will the bureau reimburse this expense?"

"call……"

Raymond breathed a sigh of relief.

"That scared me to death... I thought it was something serious."

"Just changing your accommodation? That's easy. Given your current rank and what you did last night, a special housing allowance is perfectly within the legal scope."

"As long as it's not too outrageous, like renting Bill Gates' mansion for no more than three thousand dollars a month... no, considering current inflation, I can even break even for you up to five thousand dollars."

"That's good."

Lyon nodded in satisfaction, then changed the subject:

"However, I have some special requirements for the house."