Business seemed like the kind of man who took advantage of his resources. Given a police chief that consisted of two men inhabiting the same body, he split the job into two distinct parts, each one perfectly suited for the side it was intended for. Also, since the cops never slept, Business gave them a full-time job, quite literally. There were no breaks for sleep or relaxation – Good Cop took a twelve hour shift during the day, and Bad Cop took the remaining twelve hours at night. They had no time to focus on anything but their work, and they loved every second of it.

Bad Cop, especially, enjoyed taking part in a career where he could finally make good use his talents. However, there were times when even Bad Cop found himself frustrated at this job.

He ground his teeth in agitation and held his walky-talky with an iron grip as he listened to yet another disappointing report. His strides were stiff, barely restrained as he stormed through the 207th floor of Octan Tower. Robots literally dove out of his way as he rounded a corner in the hallway. His uniform, not yet properly broken in, ground a little in the joints as he walked, adding to his irritation.

"There is nothing in the alleyway, chief," came the flat, tinny voice of a robot from his walky-talky. "We searched everywhere and didn't find a trace of anything unusual."

This only deepened Bad Cop's fury. Oh, how he wanted to be in that alleyway with them so he could give them a piece of his mind… "Then search it again, you bucket of bolts! This is the first lead we've had on Slider for weeks."

"There is nothing here, chief," the robot repeated. "We checked inside every trash can. We checked through every brick in the sidewalk for secret passages. There is no one here."

"The camera saw him enter the alley, and since it still hasn't seen him leave, we know he has to be there!" He noticed his office door coming up on his right, but he refused to reduce his pace. If he slowed down even slightly, he was afraid he would give into the growing urge to smash something.

"What do you want us to do, chief?" the robot on his walky-talky asked. "People will wake up soon. They might see us. Are you sure you want us to search the alley again?"

His breath hissed out between clenched teeth. How he cursed the uniforms Business made his night-shift robo-cops wear. If the words "Super-Secret Police" weren't printed in huge, incredibly visible letters across the back, perhaps Bad Cop could have afforded to let them keep searching. For now, though, it looked like he would have to recall his robots for the day and try pursing a new lead the following night.

Maybe he's in one of the nearby buildings?

"Search the neighboring buildings," he grumbled to his robots. What other options did he have? It wasn't as if he had any better ideas. "If you don't find anything, return to base."

"On it, chief." The robo-cop's signal cut off with a small fritz of static.

Conversation over, he tore the walky-talky away from his head and clipped it to his belt. He finally allowed himself to slow down a bit, and he turned about to double back towards his office. It was the same featureless black door as always, but he no longer had any problems telling which room was his. With both his mind and his other side's dedicated to memorizing its position in the building, it had only taken them a week to stop getting lost on their trips up here.

He pushed through the door and immediately turned to the check on the clock inside. At the realization that it was already 5:59, he gave a frustrated groan. He'd meant to get their morning routine started, but-

It's fine, it's fine. You needed the extra time. It's not like anything bad will happen if I start my patrol a little later than usual.

Still, he wanted to make their shift change as simple as possible. Since he had less than a minute left, he limited himself to tidying up his half of the desk. All of the paperwork regarding the Slider case went into its own pile. A handful of similar cases had popped up over the last few weeks, but since none of them had attracted the same amount of investigation as Slider's, he put all of them all into one separate stack. He turned around and gave another glance to the clock – only a few seconds away from six AM.

He watched the second hand tick towards its goal, taking these last few moments to compose himself before his Good side's turn started.

Crink.

Good Cop relished the morning routine – taking a shower on the Gym Floor, brushing his teeth in one of the bathrooms, and the like. He didn't necessarily enjoy those kinds of tasks in and of themselves, but they did give him the chance to calm down and reset after a busy night of watching his Bad side run the Super-Secret Police.

He was halfway through shaving when the walky-talky at his hip let out strident ring. Good Cop dropped his razor into the sink in sheer surprise. Who could it possibly be? It was too early for anyone to bothr calling him, and his Bad side's robots should have returned to the base by now. He scrambled to unclip the radio and hesitantly brought it up to his head.

It's nothing. One of the robots must've bashed their call button when they-

"We got him, chief."

The whole world went still. He couldn't figure out how to breathe, much less talk, and the silence in his head told him that his Bad side couldn't think of much to say either. After several seconds, Good Cop finally managed to choke out a "What?"

The robot on the radio spoke again. "Your suspicions were correct, chief. We found Daniel Slider hiding in the basement of the adjacent apartment complex."

Good Cop almost couldn't believe it. His Bad side had been searching for Slider for so long, he was beginning to think they would never find him.

Thirty-three days. Thirty-three days of false leads and cold trails. He might have evaded the law for five weeks, but he couldn't stay hidden for six.

He chewed his bottom lip in apprehension. So, Slider was found. What was he supposed to do about that? This kind of operation was his Bad side's job, not his.

Make sure they have him secured, you moron!

"Do you have him secured?" he asked with a wavering voice.

"Yes, chief. Six of us stormed the basement and subdued him. He is currently handcuffed in the back of one of the police trucks."

His shoulders slumped in relief. Slider had given his other side nothing but stress and disappointment. Now that the man was caught, maybe his Bad side wouldn't feel the need to be so perpetually high-strung.

Oh, we're not done yet. This is just the beginning.

"Where do you want us to take him, chief?" the robot on the radio asked flatly.

Good Cop hesitated once again. Should he let his Bad side switch in to deal with this, or…?

No. Tell them to put Slider in one of the holding chambers until I start my turn.

"Take him to one of the holding chambers," he repeated. "Watch him until we meet you down there. It's going to be a while – around six-ish tonight?"

"Yes, chief. We'll be waiting for you."

A bit of static signaled the end of the exchange, but Good Cop was still unsure of what to do. After a moment of dead silence, he slowly lowered the radio and stuck it back onto his hip. He glanced back into the bathroom mirror, noticed that half of his face was still covered in shaving cream, and delicately retrieved his razor from where it had landed in the sink.

After the morning rituals, he made the return to his office with quick, jerky steps. To most people, this was an unbearably early hour of the morning, but the halls of the tower continued to buzz with activity. Robots bustled through the hallway, giving their chief of police a wide berth as they rushed to and from different tasks. Like the two cops, they didn't need sleep to function, so they were free to work around the clock.

He couldn't help but notice how few actual people there were in the building. Sure, he spotted a couple – a janitor or secretary hidden in a sea of suit-clad automatons – but he suspected that these people wouldn't remain employed here for much longer. President Business was likely trying to phase out the "human error" of his company. Soon, all that would remain would be a handful of TV actors, a certain police chief, and Business himself. Plus a few criminals in the holding chambers, of course.

He hesitantly wondered if this was truly the right way to deal with Slider. It wasn't as if he was opposed to locking the guy up – Slider had clearly disobeyed his deportation notice, and avoiding the police for weeks certainly hadn't helped matters. Good Cop also wasn't opposed to putting the man through a rough interrogation. It might give them useful information that could help them find the other missing deportees out there. However, Good Cop wasn't sure that they should wait an entire day before interrogating him. His Bad side was convinced that Slider was a key criminal. Why give him the time to figure out how to escape? Why not interrogate him now?

No. I'm not going to let you of all people interrogate the one criminal who I finally caught.

Well, technically, the robots were the ones who caught Slider, and it was his own suggestion that led to the man's arrest…

My forces caught him. He's mine.

Then, why shouldn't he let Bad cop take an hour or two out of turn to run a quick interrogation?

No, I am not going to act out of turn again. Unless you're offering me a few free hours?

Good Cop shook his head. He didn't want to abandon the even time split entirely. Instead, however much time Bad Cop took up with the interrogation, Good Cop would take back at the end of this day's turn. If the interrogation took two hours, his turn would last until eight instead of six.

I still get the same amount of time.

That was the idea, yes.

Then my answer is no.

Even if it would be a lot of help to both of them if they broke turn again, just this once?

No.

What if Slider found a way to escape? That was Good Cop's main source of worry.

He won't. He has a dozen robots keeping close guard on him.

Good Cop sighed. He knew this routine all too well. They would encounter a problem, he would come up with a whole manner of solutions, and his Bad side would refuse to follow any of them. Instead, Bad Cop always preferred the one solution that he'd come up with himself. The more illogical and senseless this solution, the more vehemently he would defend it. Though Good Cop understood why his Bad side did it, it more than a little annoying, almost toddler-like.

Did you just call me childish?

Childish? No, not exactly. People of all ages did this kind of routine. Toddlers were the main offenders, though.

Hmph.

He let his gaze stray to the floor. It looked like Slider was going to wait. Technically, Good Cop had the authority to head down to the holding chambers and interrogate Slider with or without his other side's consent, though he had no drive to do so. That kind of thing was better suited for his Bad side's skillset, and he would much rather spend his limited time on his own half of the job.

You wouldn't be able to handle it.

After a moment of thought, he silently agreed. Slider was likely a hardened criminal, his mouth sealed shut by years of illegal activities. They needed answers about his strange disappearance, but Good Cop simply didn't have the heart to beat the information out of him. Plus, if Slider was as dangerous as his Bad side painted him to be, Good Cop didn't even want to be in the same room as him. Though Bad Cop had trained in martial arts for years, none of that training carried over once they swapped.

You really are a pansy, you know that? I struggled and trained to get the skills I have today, and I toughened myself up in the process. You? Everything was handed to you. It's made you soft.

He would admit, he did have a very lucky lot in life, and-

How you ever managed to become the dominant personality is beyond me. You sure as heck don't deserve it.

Normally, Good Cop could shrug off his other side's jabs without too much difficulty. It was a natural part of life for him. At this most recent remark, however, he hunched his shoulders and drew his mouth into a flat line. He forced himself to take deep, even breaths, though he knew those efforts wouldn't steady him completely.

His Bad side said nothing more. He was probably too busy celebrating how badly he'd shaken his Good side up. Good Cop, meanwhile, let out a strained sigh. If they were having these kinds of arguments so early in the shift, this was going to be a long day.

There were two jobs the police chief needed to fulfill. One of them was commanding a large division of specialized robots known as the Super-Secret Police. This, obviously, was Bad Cop's duty. The other job dealt with the regular police force, and Good Cop did this gratefully.

Physically, his job consisted of a very long, very haphazard patrol around Bricksburg. He simply drove down the streets, keeping a lookout for criminal activity and writing traffic tickets whenever appropriate. He also smiled and waved to a couple people, occasionally helping them with directions, though this wasn't so much a part of his job as it was his personal nature.

Every few hours, he would take a break, park the car somewhere, and perform the "chief" portion of his "chief of police" title. He was in charge of coordinating the police efforts across the entire Lego universe, which was just as impressive as it sounded. He spent a huge chunk of his time communicating with the other law-enforcers out there - radioing the sheriffs in the Old West, relaying messages to the knights in Middle Zealand, hailing patrol ships in the Space Zone, and the like.

President business knew that Good Cop liked talking to people, and the man had been kind enough to give him a job where he could talk with literally anyone in the entire Octan police force at will. He spent much of his time excitedly chatting away on the radio, receiving patrol reports from places halfway across the Lego universe, learning thousands of little tidbits of information as he went. He even occasionally sent officers across the borders of the realms, lending support where it was needed.

He glanced out through the windshield of his sparkling-new, black-and-white police car. From his parallel parking spot, he got a very nice view of both the passing cars and the mob of people surging down the sidewalk. It was on the verge of becoming rush hour, so traffic was a tad heavier than usual. People hurried for home, somehow finding the energy to smile after a long day at their respective workplaces. Good Cop couldn't help but smile back, knowing that they were still enjoying themselves on this average, fairly boring day.

He continued with the conversation he'd been having on his walky-talky. "How large did you say the sea serpent was?" he asked.

He heard a violent, hissing screech from the speaker before his conversation partner, a Viking warrior, was able to respond. "It's about twenty bricks, chief."

Good Cop let out high-pitched whistle. "That's huge!" A huge roar sounded over the radio, but he tried to ignore it. "You shouldn't have to worry, though. I sent two dozen Bricksburg officers to Viking's Landing you as soon as you called me. I also radioed the Heropolis division, so you should get a couple of superheroes to help you out, too."

The sound of splintering wood came through his radio, along with a few faraway shouts. "Thanks, chief," the warrior replied, a little breathless. "We should hold up until they get here. You know which heroes are coming?"

Good Cop frowned. "Sorry, no. They don't report to me directly."

"Oh well. We'll figure it out when they show up." Another roar, this one a little louder than the first. "Thanks again. It's great having a police chief like this."

He clutched this radio a little tighter in excitement. "Really? Was the other one…bad?"

The warrior's hearty laughter covered up whatever sounds of carnage happened next. "No, it's great to just have a chief in the first place. Before King Business set up this whole communication system, Viking's Landing was all on its own. Now, you're here to send us help when we need it."

"Oh?" He sat up a little bit straighter. "Thank you!"

"Don't mention it." A third roar rang out over the walky-talky, partnered by a couple of screams. "Darn it all!" the warrior shouted. "Look, I need to go, talk to you later." With a small spasm of static, all the sounds of the battle cut off.

Good Cop lowered the radio and let a sigh of contentment out of his chest. It was great to feel like he was making a deep, positive impact on the world. Because of him, the people of the Lego universe could sleep a little more soundly tonight.

Yeah, yeah. Let me know when you actually catch any of those criminals or beat up any monsters yourself.

He gave a puzzled expression at his other side's response. Sure, much of his job depended on sending other people out to take care of problems, but it was still up to him to make the decision of which people to send and how many. Besides, it wasn't as if his Bad side had personally captured any criminals either. Slider had ultimately been caught by the robots.

But…I…rrgh, I should have been there. I wanted to be there during the search, I stayed as long as I could-

But Bad Cop had left before the search was over in order to make it back to the office before they swapped turns.

Exactly.

Good Cop sunk a little into his seat, muttering under his breath. "If you wanted me to, I would have given you the extra time to finish the search. An hour or two, maybe."

At the expense of letting your turn last an hour or two later into the evening, naturally.

"It's only fair."

Then no.

He clamped his mouth shut before he could speak another word. Turned down once again. He forced himself to take a few slow, deep breaths. He only needed to remind himself that everything his other side did was totally understandable, even if it when it was completely unreasonable.

I'm not being unreasonable. You're being unreasonable. Every time you offer to 'help' me, I refuse. Won't you get the message?

It was alright for his Bad side to refuse any and all help that was offered to him, even when there was absolutely no logical reason to do so.

I don't need your help, so you should stop harassing me about it already.

It was alright for his other side to be a hypocrite. Lots of people were hypocrites, especially people who had some emotional issues they needed to work out.

Oh, this is rich. You think I have emotional problems? You're afraid of almost everything. You're scared of Slider. You're scared of Business. You're even scared of me. A wimp like you being the dominant personality, it makes me sick to my stomach.

Good Cop clamped his hands to the steering wheel and found that he no longer had any real control over his breathing. He struggled to find another way to steady himself, but unfortunately, he knew that his Bad side wouldn't give him the opportunity to look for one.

You're the dominant one, but we both know you don't deserve it. Go on, admit it.

Good Cop forcefully shifted their car out of park and backed out into the street without first checking over his shoulder. Luckily, he didn't run into anyone, and he sped off down the road with a squeal of the tires.

Huh. Did I finally find a way to make the oh-so-unflappable Good Cop angry?

He barely had the presence of mind to flick his blinker as he turned right. Once he completely the turn, his face stretched with a broad smile. "Angry? I'm not angry," he replied, his voice light and almost overly joyful. "Why would I be angry? We've been working at this job for over a month, and even though both of our jobs are demanding, you turn down every single one of my offers to make it easier for the both of us. How would that make me angry, going through that kind of thing several times a day?"

Um…

"Oh, and it gets even better!" His voice inched a little higher, still keeping its happy lilt. "Every time I even bring up the idea of helping you, you turn the entire conversation into an argument. You know how much I love arguments! Even when I try to let the whole thing go, you always want to get the last word in by giving me a couple of cute jabs, all of them solely intended to hurt me on a personal level. That's super-helpful, won't you agree?"

I don't go out of my way to argue with you.

Good Cop managed to smile even wider. "Oh, I'm sure you don't. What would arguing do for you, anyways? Besides, you know, giving you a way to control your otherwise uncontrollable life? I can try to help you all I want, but if you refuse to accept my help, then you must be in control of the situation. But, if I won't let it bother me, it takes some of your control away, and you won't let that happen, obviously. Instead, you find a way to rile me up, which makes you feel like you have some sort of control over my half of our life. But, that's not at all what you're trying to do, is it?"

His Bad side didn't seem to have any response to this, but Good Cop wasn't even close to being done yet.

"But, wait, there's more! I could force you to do along with my help if I really wanted you to. You can't do anything to stop me, but I give you a choice in the matter because I want you to have as much freedom as possible. But, every time I try to give you the freedom to do your job properly without being strangled by the turn-based system, you turn me down. Hooray!"

But…you can't want me to have as much freedom as possible.

"You silly goose!" he giggled. "When did I do anything to give you that impression?"

You won't make me the dominant personality.

His smile slipped a little bit, but he still kept the happy note in his voice. "That's not something I can just decide to do. Didn't you know that? I thought you knew that."

I do know that.

"Then why would you bring it up?" His smile was back in full-force, almost psychotic in its intensity. "You must have better reasons for not trusting me. You're a reasonable guy, aren't you? You're not some repressed control freak with a self-loathing problem who'll go to outrageous extremes just to prove that he's relevant to the universe in some way. That's not you, right? You're so well-put together! Maybe you deserve to be the dominant personality after all."

I… You need to slow down.

"Oh, I'm so very sorry. Was I going a little too fast for you? You're usually so quick on the uptake!"

No, I mean to slow down the car.

One glance at the speedometer was enough to shock Good Cop into punching the breaks. No self-respecting officer would ever be caught speeding, especially not twenty over the limit. A few cars around him honked indignantly at his sudden change in speed, but he paid them no mind. All that mattered right now was finding a parking spot. He was obviously in no good state to be driving.

Luckily, there was a free parallel parking spot near the middle of the next block. He backed into it extremely carefully, trying to keep his nerves steady. His anger had mostly dissipated by this point, but a whole other host of emotions had naturally taken its place. Disappointment, guilt, shock, frustration, all those kinds of things that made it difficult to concentrate.

He took the time to shift into park and turn off the car. Then, his face clenched in a grimace, he pressed his head against the top of his wheel. Why had he lashed out like that? He never lost his temper. Why had he allowed himself to get that angry?

Because I was trying to make you angry. I'm surprised it's taken you this long to snap.

He didn't like being angry. It had the tendency to bring out all the worst aspects of people. In Good Cop's case, it turned him into a reckless, impulsive psycho who refused to pay attention to anything except his own emotions. He also hated how it made him want to hurt people, even the people who were closest to him. Oh, those things he'd said to his Bad side…most of it wasn't forgivable, really. Every one of those passive-aggressive jabs had been created solely for the purpose of deep, emotional injury, taking revenge for years of insults and arguments.

I lose my temper all the time. You lose it for the first time in years and feel guilty about it. Stop pitying yourself, it doesn't suit you.

He lifted his head off of the steering wheel and blinked a few times in surprise. Was his Bad side really trying to forgive him for everything?

There's nothing to forgive. I taunted you until you snapped. I did some stupid things, and you told me off. That's all you need to care about. You can get back to doing your job now.

Good Cop shook his own head to clear it. His mind was sluggish with emotional exhaustion, and he really didn't think he was up to the task of doing anything else today. Luckily, a glance at his car's clock told him that there were only ten minutes left of his turn. So long as nothing interesting happened, he could actually take some time to rest and clear his thoughts before his Bad side took over and rushed off to interrogate Slider.

What's that near the alley?

His gaze flicked towards the nearby sidewalk, focusing on a figure who had originally been a blur in his peripheral vision. Everything about the man screamed of suspicious activity – the ripped state of his jeans, the white hoodie pulled low over his head, the overly-casual way he slouched against the brick wall. This was a shadier area of town, with older building models and small bits of faded graffiti. There was barely any traffic on the sidewalk, making this odd man seem increasingly out of place.

After a moment, the man stood up straight, gave a quick glance up and down the street, and casually strolled into the nearby alleyway. He was up to something, no doubt. This obviously needed investigation.

Good Cop groaned and threw his head back against the seat. He didn't want to have to deal with this right now. Why couldn't it be his Bad side's turn already? His instinct was to offer his other side the chance to start his turn early, but he also didn't want to have to deal with another argument so soon after the last one.

Alright, alright, quit your whining. I'll do it.

His face instantly lit up with both surprise and delight. "Really?"

Really.

He couldn't stop himself from asking, "Why?"

There was a heavy pause before his other side answered.

I'm better suited for this kind of operation. Knowing you, you'll try to start a friendly conversation with him, and his friends will jump you as soon as you let your guard down. It's safer to let me go in there.

A bright, genuine smile appeared on his face. "Plus, ten minutes isn't worth an argument."

It…shouldn't be.

He let out a happy chuckle. "Alright, then." He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, readying himself for the switch.

Quit stalling. The longer we wait, the harder-

Crink.

"-it'll be to track him down."

As soon as Bad Cop realized he was in control, he wasted no time. He reached across to the passenger side of the car and grasped the blaster lying innocently on the seat. With frantic movements, he hastily unclipped his Good side's gun from his hip and replaced it with the new one. Good Cop's blaster was designed to stun targets. This one was meant to kill.

He threw open the car door and jumped out, his movements fueled by the thrill of his unexpected early start. However, he closed the door as quietly as possible, trying to avoid a loud slam that would echo down the alley. This operation required stealth. This mystery man wouldn't know what hit him.

Gun in hand, he crept towards the alley, every part of his body wound tight with excitement.

Don't make Good Cop angry. You won't like him when he's angry.

So, yes, a super-long chapter. It was originally supposed to be much shorter, and most of it was intended to be exposition and setup for the next chapter. But, you know what happens when you give the cops more than five seconds to interact - they get into long, interesting conversations. Those conversations inevitably do such a good job of weaving in the central themes and progressing character arcs that they justify their own length.

That doesn't mean this part of the story wasn't a pain to put together, though. Unfortunately, writing this super-long chapter has eaten up so much time that my backlog is nearly exhausted. I'll try my hardest to get the next installment out on schedule, but I make no promises.