After completing the official swearing-in ceremony, Rian was now—finally—a fully certified Level 1 Officer of the Los Angeles Police Department.
A patrol officer, no less.
But now that he was permanent staff, he could qualify to test for detective.
His system was called the Supercop System, not the "federal agent system." So as far as Rian was concerned, he'd be staying in the police framework. Maybe down the line, he'd consider Interpol.
As for the FBI and DEA? Who knew if the system would even count them as "real" cops?
"Congratulations, Rian!"
"You just broke the LAPD's record for fastest promotion to full officer!"
"Way to go, man!"
His squadmates erupted in applause and cheers around the precinct bullpen.
Rian grinned and waved a hand."After shift—Big Beard's Bar. Drinks on me."
Big Beard's was a dive bar not far from the precinct, run by a retired cop. Naturally, it had become the go-to hangout for officers on and off duty.
"WOAH! All hail Rian!""I'm drinking till I see double!""Hahaha! Time for the real drinking legend to show up!"
The office buzzed with excitement.
Rian, meanwhile, headed for the squad leader's office.
"Hey, Sergeant," he said the moment he stepped in. "I just got back from that sea patrol. You remember—right after that, I was followed by people tied to Blood Revolver."
"Any update from the department investigation?"
He'd reported it at the time. Sergeant Benjamin had promised the department would look into it.
Benjamin gave a weary smile."Rian, after you turned in those 500 kilos of coke, Command reported it up the chain."
"Now too many people know about the case. Parker Center's full of ears."
"We only had authorization to investigate our division... and we found nothing."
His tone was clear: the leak came from downtown, not from their station.
Rian's eyes narrowed.Whoever had sold him out... he wasn't letting that go.
"Thanks, Sarge. I'll handle it myself from here."
If the department couldn't—or wouldn't—dig deeper, Rian would.
Back on patrol, he rode with his partner Henry again. This time, Rian took the wheel.
With his Driving God talent in full effect, Rian felt like he and the old patrol Crown Vic were one machine.
He could feel every vibration, every nuance of the car. Every flaw, every limit.
He knew—he could push this car to its maximum potential.
"Damn, Rian... your driving is smooth as hell!" Henry exclaimed.
It was his first time riding shotgun with Rian behind the wheel. And despite the car's age—over ten years old—it felt like gliding in a high-end luxury cruiser driven by a veteran chauffeur.
Rian chuckled."I've got a knack for driving, I guess."
They passed a Starbucks. Rian pulled over, grabbed two cups, and paid in cash from his storage inventory.
The money laundering cards had only covered $250 million. He still had $30 million in unwashed cash.
No harm using a few bills for coffee—no one would ask questions.
Then the radio crackled.
"Urgent alert! Missing child report from Red Pine Park at the intersection of Danvers and 33rd. Caller states an eight-year-old girl has vanished..."
Rian grabbed the mic."6-DAM-19 responding. En route now."
He set down his coffee and floored the gas.
The Crown Vic surged forward, cutting between lanes with surgical precision.
"Jesus, Rian! Slow the hell down!" Henry shouted, grabbing the handle."Shit—red light! RED—!"
Rian didn't even flinch.
He threaded the car straight through two semi-trucks driving opposite directions, gliding past them like a ghost.
Henry spun around in his seat, face pale as a ghost."Sweet fuck! Rian, if I die, my daughter's gonna lose it!"
Rian said nothing—his focus was absolute.This was his domain.
He wasn't a driver anymore.
He was the Car God.
In under five minutes, they pulled up in front of Red Pine Park.
The park was named for a massive, ancient red pine tree—over a thousand years old—that stood at its center. A popular spot for both tourists and locals.
A white girl, no more than eighteen or nineteen, waved them down the moment they arrived.
She was striking—blonde hair, slim waist, full curves. An easy 8/10 by Hollywood standards, with tear-streaked cheeks and trembling lips.
"I'm the one who called!" she cried, running up to them."My little sister Ava... she's missing!"
Her eyes were red. She'd clearly been crying for a while.
Both Rian and Henry were men. In America, that meant zero contact when it came to comforting distraught women—too easy to get hit with a harassment claim.
"Ma'am. Deep breath," Rian said calmly. "We need you focused. What's your name?"
The woman blinked at him. His voice—low, firm, safe—calmed her almost immediately.
"Emily Anderson," she said. "I'm 19. I'm a freshman at USC."
Henry and Rian shared a glance.
A college kid from a good school—not someone prone to dramatics.
"Emily, tell me everything. When did your sister disappear?"
Rian kept his voice steady, drawing her out without pressure.
"I brought her here to walk the dog," she began, sniffling. "She was playing with him while I made a phone call."
"I saw her while I was on the call. She was right there."
"But when I hung up, a woman came over to sell me yoga classes. We only talked for a few seconds."
"And then… Ava and the dog were just... gone."
"I thought she'd just wandered off, so I started calling for our dog—his name's Jerry. Normally, he comes right away when I call."
"But I searched the entire park. Screamed for him over and over. Nothing."
"That's when I called 911."
Rian's expression darkened.
This wasn't just a lost child.
His gut told him exactly what this was.
An abduction.
And the clock was ticking.