MATCH MET: CHECKMATE BITCHEZ
Disclaimer: I don't own Brooklyn Nine Nine or the characters from the show. Okay, okay, now we get into the real story, yew! Cool cool cool cool cool cool.
CHAPTER TWO:
Had I known what Captain Raymond Holt was like, I one hundred present would not have worn grey sweat pants, an old LAPD top and a hoodie - especially since the hoodie was dark grey, and the sweat pants were light grey.
"You must be detective Caine? I'm your captain, Holt. Why is your hoodie a seperate colour from the sweat pants detective? Is it not...a set? I trust tomorrow when you start work here you'll find something more...professional."
"It's like you're trying to ask me to wear a tie," I groaned, screwing up my nose. Man, this captain is gonna be no fun at all.
"I won't object to it."
"Okay. Weird."
"Detective, I understand things may be laid back in California, but the NYPD is one of the best-"
There was yelling from the bullpen. A short red haired woman stuck her head in the door.
"Scully is on fire again," she said, then vanished, not once looking up from her phone.
"Maybe it's time I end this and introduce you to your new peers. You'll have to go downstairs and sign out your badge and gun today before you officially start tomorrow."
"No probs boss," I muttered. Holt's eyebrow shot into the sky. Man I can't wait to prank this guy.
"Everyone. Attention here please. Scully, you're still smoking."
"Sorry captain. I left my pie in the microwave again."
"Anyway. This is detective Caine. She has transferred from the LAPD. Please, make her welcome. Peralta, she'll be with you whilst Santiago is away."
There one stared back at me. I shoved my hands into my sweat pants pockets and grinned awkwardly.
"You don't look like you're from California. I thought you'd be tanned. And male. I basically pictured you like a tanned, blonde copy of Terry."
I screwed up my nose at whoever had said that - the red head from before.
"Ah no."
"Why did you transfer?" A short man said, pulling on his tie. He had short black hair and was eating something that smelt like turps and rocket salad at his desk. I frowned.
"A prep I arrested, Joey Butcher, sent his brother to kill me. He filled my apartment with explosives."
The guy Holt had called Peralta spoke up.
"Well that's cool. How many people did he butcher? Also. How often do you get to see the Nakatomi Tower?"
I sat down at my new desk and put my feet up, rubbing my sneaker together. "Actually, that's the coolest part - it's his real birth name. He killed twenty six women by choking them with a bike chain. And that's a trick question. Obviously you can see the tower from my apartment balcony, what do you think this is? Amateur hour?"
There was silence. Peralta was gazing off into the distance, looking impressed.
"You start tomorrow? Is that why you're wearing your PJs? I'm Charles Boyle, by the way. I'm Jake's best friend." The short man pointed at Peralta who grinned back at me.
"Why does everyone keep commenting on my clothes? This is so comfy. And is that why're you're here? To be...Jake's best friend?"
"Yep."
Jake Peralta rolled his eyes. "No Charles. You work here. You're a detective."
"Well that comes second to you Jake."
Holt sighed. "Good God. Sergeant Jeffords will be able to help you if you have any questions."
We all watched the captain leave the bullpen. Jake leant forward at his desk.
"How'd you catch Butcher?"
I smirked. Finally some cop talk. "Easy. I found a marking on the neck of one of his victims. Turns out it was part of a serial number from the chain. I traced the chain part number back to On-Point Performance bike shop in LA, got footage and a copy of the receipt. Everything matched, I got a warrant and searched his house. Found two of the three bike chains used in the murders. Ended up cornering him in an alleyway by sliding down a rope from a chopper."
Jake Peralta looked like he was going to slide off his chair and onto the floor and start convulsing.
"Wow, wish we could have seen it," Boyle said sadly. "Jake loves that sort of stuff."
"Here." I pulled out my phone, flicked to the video and handed my phone across the desk to Jake. He watched the entire thing twice, then passed it around.
"I think we're going to be good partners. Now. Favourite 'Die Hard' quote?"
"But not too good," Boyle snapped in the background.
"Clearly 'welcome to the party, pal.' Like as if that isn't going on my tombstone when I die."
Jake nodded, looking impressed.
"That's cool," someone said behind me. I spun in my chair to find a badass looking woman with curly lack hair, wearing all black - complete with black leather jacket.
"I'm Diaz."
"Diaz...?"
"Yep. That's all you need to know." I watched her walk off.
"Okayokayokayokay. What a hot bitch."
"She's a lone wolf that one," Jake said majestically. He flicked a crumb off his keyboard into his open desk draw and closed it with his shoe. I frowned.
"Lone wolf title of your sex tape," I said as I stood. I smirked at my own joke and glanced around. Every single person was staring at me, mouth wide. Everyone except Jake, who was picking at his teeth with his pen, using his badge as a mirror.
"I'll see you guys tomorrow then," I muttered, giving a quick awkward wave. I didn't turn around until the elevator doors shut behind me, still feeling their eyes on the back on my neck.
After Caine had gone, the squad looked around at each other.
"Did anyone else just see what happened there?" Gina asked, putting her phone down on her desk.
"Yep. It was terrifying," Rosa muttered, glaring down at Jake.
"What?" Jake asked, looking around the room. He couldn't quite place the vibe.
"She's a female Jake clone. She's Jake. There's two of them," Gina said, closing her eyes.
"I saw. What on Earth have I done," Holt said, reappearing behind Jake.
"You guys are being dramatic," Jake grinned. He put his feet up on his desk and rubbed his sneakers together. Everyone in the room groaned loudly.