I had a lot of fun writing this chapter.
Somehow, Emmet managed to get a reluctant majority vote out of the Master Builders in favor of giving Bad Cop his former position back. Bad Cop really had to hand it to him – the kid had charisma out the wazoo.
Benny had told him that the police department was a mess, but the moment Bad Cop arrived at the station, he realized that 'a mess' wasn't even the half of it. Chaos reigned. No one knew what they were doing, and there didn't seem to be anyone really in charge. There were senior officers trying to wrangle others into some form of coordination, but there was no one at the top to wrangle them.
When he walked in through the front doors, it took a few minutes for people to notice him, giving him time to assess the situation. But once they did, silence spread out like a ripple through the station. They all stared at him.
Bad Cop took a deep breath, steeling himself. The first thing he had to do was establish his unquestionable authority. It didn't matter if they didn't trust him right away. He wasn't here to make friends – he was here to kick them back into shape. Glaring around the room, he put his hands on his hips. "What a darn sorry sight," he growled. "No wonder the Duplos are running rampant. I came in here thinking it was a police department, but this is just a holy show!"
Some of the junior officers at least had the decency to look embarrassed, and Bad Cop felt a surge of fresh energy. This was what he did, where he really belonged. He was a cop to the bone. It was good to be home.
He paced forward, and they parted hurriedly for him. "Now!" he barked. "I'm sure you all know who I am, but on the off chance you don't, my name is Bad Cop!" He came to a sudden halt, arms clasped behind his back, and surveyed the room with a cold eye. "You will address me as 'sir'! Is that clear?"
A half-hearted mumble went around the room.
"I said," Bad Cop repeated, raising his voice, "is that clear?"
This time he got a more solid response. "Yes, sir!"
"Better," Bad Cop said, and strode onward, his blood singing in his veins, his nerve endings alight like sparklers. He felt alive again. "Who are the highest ranking officers here?"
Five people shuffled out of the crowd – two women and three men. He advanced on them. "I am absolutely gobsmacked," he snapped. One of the women – younger, a bit gangly, probably newly promoted – flinched. Bad Cop was on the show of weakness like a shot. He towered over the young woman. "What's your name?" he asked sharply.
The young woman gulped. "D-Detective Janice Jenkins, sir."
"Well, stand up straight, Jenkins!" Bad Cop snarled. "Didn't anyone teach you saps how to stand at attention?"
"This isn't the military!" someone shouted from the back of the room.
Bad Cop whirled on his heel. "Who said that?" he bellowed.
Silence.
He stalked in the direction the voice had come from, and people scrambled to get out of his way. Scanning the crowd, his eyes settled on one cop looking simultaneously defiant and weak-kneed. "Was it you?" he shouted.
The cop's expression wavered between terror and determination, and settled on the latter. "Yeah," he said.
Bad Cop placed a hand on the unfortunate soul's shoulder. "You're right, sonny boy! This isn't the military. We're coppers, not soldiers! But here's the thing," he continued, leaning in close and tightening his grip. "You lot have been so busy foostering about that this place has turned into a right shambles, and do you know who has to clean it up now?"
The cop licked his lips nervously. The entire station was holding its breath.
Bad Cop loomed. "Answer the question, son."
"You do," the cop whispered.
"You do, what?"
"You do, sir."
"Right again!" Bad Cop said. "And the only way to fix up a mess like this is to tear it down and start from scratch!" He released the cop, turned to face the rest of them, and boomed, "Welcome back to boot camp, you miserable gits!"