The Demon Of The Nine-Nine

Disclaimer: I do not own Halo or Brooklyn 99 in any way, shape or form, they belong to their respective owners.

Jestalnaker94000: Thanks man, hope you enjoy this chapter.

Jason Chandler: If you have the time, I highly recommend the show. It's without a doubt one of my favourite shows of all time. I've watched the entire series, excluding the final season, countless times now.

PanzaJ: Hopefully I don't disappoint.

Hellfire45: Let's just hope that they don't drive him crazy with their antics lol.

HereticSmurf: Appreciate your kind words, I'll try not to ruin it. And yeah, I'm going to have to go back and correct that. I'm just so used to writing LAPD instead of NYPD that I didn't even notice.

UltraMickey: You don't know that!

SomeRandomMarine: Well then, I hope this chapter is enough to satisfy you for the time being :)

187: I guess you'll have to wait and see who I have Six paired up with as the story progresses.

Guest: I had thought about doing a Spartan-B312/Noble Six x Captain Carter story just not sure where I should start the story. Following the end of Halo Reach, activating the slipspace bomb instead of Jorge, or having Six sacrifice himself to defeat the Didact and saving the Chief and Cortana in the process.

Kiran Punnoose: I've never seen the series, but I adore the 2003 movie staring Colin Farrell and Michell Rodriguez, it's actually a guilty pleasure of mine.

Lilspooky221: Agreed, Halo and Brooklyn 99 are two of my favourite series right now and I don't see that changing any time soon. Hopefully I don't disappoint.

Chapter 2.

"Good guns, Spartan." He heard Captain Jacob Keyes compliment over the comms as he took down the CCS-class battlecruiser with a well-placed shot to its venting ports as it charged up its ventral beam to destroy the Pillar of Autumn. "All hands brace for cast off."

Reaching for the handrail, he grabbed it and pulled out of the control box and watched as the Pillar of Autumn broke free from her moorings and used the atmospheric rocket pods to move away from the refuelling station.

Slowly climbing down the ladder, he watched as the Halcyon-class Heavy Cruiser powered up her starboard engines. As they powered up a bright blue light shone across the drydock and reflected off his visor. In the distance the battlecruiser explosions erupted throughout the ship as it plummeted as the Autumn booted up her engines before pulling away dropping the rocket pods into the canyon below and disappeared through the clouds.

"This is the Pillar of Autumn...we're away. And the package is with us." Came the Captain's final transmission before all he heard was static over the comms.

Lifting his head up, rain trickled down his visor as he looked up at the sky to see a vicious storm raging above, clouds that were distorted and blackened, thick smoke and ash as far as the eye could see, as well as rumbles of thunder that made it look like the gates of hell had opened above him; an effect from the continuous glassing that had devastated the planet and destroyed the ecosystem.

Scanning the area and looking out to the distance, he looked for a way out now that the Autumn had left leaving him stranded and cut off from the rest of the UNSC. Alas, all he could see was the charred landscape that resembled obsidian in every direction he looked, even the mountains he could make out in the horizon hadn't been spared; the Covenant were nothing if not thorough.

There would be no escape.

Deep down he had known that when he had offered to stay behind and man the Mass Driver so the Autumn could escape and get the package safely off Reach and away from the Covenant. However, it was only now as he looked at the glass-covered surface, which at this point symbolised a void about to swallow him whole, that it really sunk in.

Reaching up over his shoulder, he grabbed his DMR and took a deep breath. He didn't expect to make it to the end of the day...but if this was the beginning of the end then he refused to go out with a whisper; he would make them fight for it.

Turning around, he walked towards the staircase and headed back into the warehouse that had been ravaged by both plasma and gunfire from the firefight between UNSC and Covenant forces. Walking down to the second floor, he spotted the corpses of numerous Elites and Grunts, of various classes, that had tried to prevent him from reaching the Mass Driver on the ground as well as numerous holes as the superheated plasma bolts melted through the metal platform like a hot knife through butter.

Stepping on an Elite, he moved across the platform and headed towards the stairs to reach the ground floor while keeping his eye out for any cloaked Elites that were lying in wait to assassinate him. For a species that prattled on about honour and how unworthy humanity were hence why they needed to be exterminated, which they had been doing for the last twenty-seven years across the Orion Arm, they sure spent a lot of time hiding in the shadows.

The word hypocrite came to mind, as did several less favourable words, when describing the Elites.

He was pulled from his thoughts regarding the Split Lips when he both heard and felt something banged against his foot. Looking down he was surprised when he saw a Spartan laying face first on the ground. Although it wasn't the fact that there was a Spartan lying dead on the ground, over the last few weeks it had become a common sight, but rather that he recognized them.

"Commander?" He asked slowly as he recognized the faded blue K variant of the mark V Mjolnir power armour. Crouching down and getting on one knee, he placed his hand on commando shoulder piece and pulled him over. As he did Noble One's hand suddenly shot up and grabbed his wrist startling him.

"Carter?" He questioned looking into the cracked and bloody golden visor of the Commando helmet where he could see one of his deep blue eyes glaring hatefully and filled with disgust as they bored into his own.

"You...could...have...saved us."

Deep blue eyes snapped open as Lieutenant Spartan-B312, alternatively known as Noble Six, lurched forward and sat up in his bed. Hyperventilating, sweat rolled down his scarred features and onto his naked chest as he was abruptly woken from his harrowing nightmare and brought back to the land of the living.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, the Spartan-III commando placed his feet on the ground and didn't even flinch at the coldness of the floor as he covered his face in his hands as he tried to control his erratic breathing and stop his light-headedness after waking up so quickly.

Breathing in and out to control his breathing, his thoughts lingered on yet another nightmare he endured every time he closed his eyes. On the plus side he supposed that he should have been grateful that it was just a nightmare rather than reliving Noble Team's deaths in vivid detail thanks to his eidetic memory; just one of the abilities that Project: CHRYSANTHEMUM had granted him and the rest of the Spartan-III's.

Casting his mind back it was amazing that not once did he ever catch on that it was nothing more than an elaborate dream his psyche had conjured up despite all the inconsistences that he should have picked up on. For starters Carter had never made it to the Aszod shipping yard since he had sacrificed his life by ramming the Pelican into the Scarab so that he and Emile to reach the dry dock and deliver the package to the Pillar of Autumn.

Secondly, there was no sign of Emile or the Zealot that had killed him atop the tower to the mass driver; that alone should have rung alarm bells and told him that he was dreaming and yet he was oblivious to it all; though the dream, well nightmare to be exact, hadn't been entirely fictional. It was probably why it had been so convincing and why he never once questioned where Emile had disappeared too and how Carter had gotten from the Pelican and all the way to the warehouse.

Regardless, whether it was his own self-hatred or his subconscious coming into play there was one thing that was certain...the dream wasn't entirely wrong.

He could have saved them.

It had been a decade, at least from his perspective, since the Fall of Reach and every second of every minute, every minute of every hour, and every hour of every day he had gone over everything that had happened and had come to the conclusion that he could have prevented his team's deaths had he just taken charge instead of doing what he always did; slinked away into the shadows and waited until someone gave him his orders instead of taking command of the situation.

If he had just got out of his comfort zone for once and racked up the nerve and had some initiative, then it wouldn't have just been him that had been transported back over five hundred years in the past; back to a time when humanity no longer needed him to defend her. To a time when mankind hadn't even colonised Luna let alone the rest of the Sol System.

Even now after spending the last ten years as Jericho Reach, the identity that Dot had created for him so that he could have some semblance of an normal life, it was difficult to comprehend that he had somehow broken the laws of the universe and gone back in time...that or when the slipspace rupture had occurred as he fled Reach he transcended beyond the eleven non-dimensions that sat above the temporal and three spatial dimensions that were perceivable to humans, he had been transported to an alternate reality that was currently at the start of the twenty-first century.

But that was a rabbit hole that he had no intention of going down.

Sighing, he rubbed his tired eyelids before lowering his hands to reveal a set of weary blue eyes and looked over to where the clock was sitting on the nightstand. 04:11 AM.

Three hours.

While far less then what was recommended, another benefit of being an augmented human was that three hours was more than enough for him replenish his brain glycogen levels. Furthermore, he wouldn't need to sleep for another couple of days if he didn't feel like it; which to be perfectly candid he would rather do anything but.

Knowing that it was be a pointless attempt trying to go back to sleep, and the fact that he really didn't want to, the Spartan threw the covers off him and over to the side and got up. Walking across the room, he rolled his stiff shoulders to remove the knot's that had formed, both from a lifetime of war and generally not taking care of himself and headed into the bathroom.

Not even flinching as he stepped onto the cold tile floor, he had endured far worse than cold feet, he closed the bathroom door behind him...despite the fact that he didn't have to worry about someone walking in while he was taking a shower; the perks of living alone.

To the left of the door was a large glass shower large enough for and at least five others, though why the builders felt the need to build shower so large was beyond him. Next to that was a large white bathtub that he scarcely used, in his opinion people that used baths were essentially washing in their own filth which ultimately destroyed the purpose of having bath in the first place; and just past that was a matching white toilet.

Running up the right side of the room and along the wall were three wooden cabinets with marble tops and two sinks by the door and at the end of the room, while a slightly smaller one sat between the two and had a washing basket beneath it. On the wall were three mirrors that were around the same size. He still didn't get while there needed to be more than a single mirror in the bathroom, it seemed narcissistic to him, but Dot insisted that they filled the room out and made it more aesthetically pleasing on the eye.

It really spoke volumes when an Artificial Intelligence knew more taste than the human did.

Taking off his clothes, Six placed them into the washing basket before stepping into the shower. Twisting the shower knob, cold water came rushing out of the shower head sending a chill down his spine as it hit, however it was nothing he hadn't endured before, and reinvigorated him as he was suddenly wide awake. Within a matter of seconds, the freezing water was replaced by hot water.

Placing his hands on the walls, he closed his eyes and stood there in silence and took solace in the hot water washing over him, not even grimacing as the water irritated the plasma burns, bullet wounds, and various other scars that were littered across his front and back, injuries he had sustained during his time as a Spartan...and constant reminders of his past failings.

Of the countless times when he hadn't been strong enough, fast enough, or hadn't paid more attention as the task at hand. It would've been easy to pass the blame onto someone else rather than admitting to himself that the only person that was responsible for his failings was the same person that looked back at him in the mirror every morning.

And every time he failed innocent people paid the price...and he had to live with that. An apt punishment he thought. To live both the knowledge and guilt that he could have saved them if only he had been better.

"You are aware that you're not scheduled to be at the Ninety-Ninth precinct until 0800 hours." The same synthetic voice from the night before stated, pulling the Spartan from his thoughts and back to reality, as a voice came out of the speakers that were placed throughout the house.

"Naturally." Six replied as he looked up as the water cascaded across his scarred features.

"Then what are you doing up so early?" asked Dot, officially known as Auntie Dot (A.I Serial Number ADT 6849-9) the former Artificial Intelligence of Noble Team that had specialized in operative military intelligence and intelligence support; but for the last ten years she had acted as his personal A.I and confidant. After all she was the only person, even if technically she wasn't even a person, that he didn't need to hide things from.

And if it hadn't been for her, he doubted that he would've been able to create the Jericho Reach identity that he had been using for the last ten years along with the pseudo past that went all the way back to 1983, the supposed year of his birth. And to be fair the background that Dot had created for him wasn't a complete lie...just a few alterations here and there to conform to the early twenty-first century.

After all, if his birth certificate had said that he had been born in 2533 and on the human colony of Jericho VII in the Lambda Serpentis system obviously it would have raised some questions.

"Having a shower." Six answered as he reached for the plain bar of soap and began lathering himself up. Though personally he never understood the concept of scented soaps or why they were so popular. What advantages did they have aside from releasing a fragrance? And that aroma was often masked when people showered themselves with whatever deodorant or perfume they had.

He supposed that it was just another human trait he would never understand.

"As shrewd as always, Lieutenant." Dot remarked as the Spartan continued to lather himself up with the soap and cleaned himself, feeling sweaty from the night before and from the nightmare...that and he had work in a few hours. "But you know exactly what I meant." She continued as she sounded like she was scolding a child for misbehaving.

"..."

"The silent treatment, is it?" She asked rhetorically as Six reached up to grab the shampoo from the shelf and proceeded to massage it into his wet black hair. "Very well. Considering that you're in the shower instead of working out or looking into any crimes that were reported in while you were dealing with the detective and the men that were on Jimmy Figgins payroll it stands to reason that you had another nightmare brought on by your PTSD..."

"I don't..."

"And like all your nightmares it was either about the Fall of Reach, the death of your parents and the glassing of Jericho VII, or your own self-guilt regarding the destruction of Beta Company and dreamt about them accusing you of not being there for them when they needed you the most." She listed off as Six sighed in defeat. While she might have been wrong on the latter, she was right about everything else. Even before Reach, before he had met Noble Team he was tortured with the nightmares of his past.

"Or you dreamt about the people that you think you failed to save as a detective." She added. "You might be a super soldier but that doesn't mean that you're omnipresent, Six. Not even you can be everywhere at once." She said as he washed the shampoo from his hair before grabbing the conditioner.

"Don't I know it." Six thought somewhat bitterly to himself. If he was then how many people could he have saved both in the twenty-first and twenty-sixth century? But even Spartans had their limits.

"I know it's a rhetorical question seeing as how I already know the answer, but would you like to talk about it?" Dot asked as Six washed the conditioner out of his hair before turning the water off and stepping out of the shower, cleaner and reinvigorated.

"No." Six declined as reached for the grey towel that was hanging on the rack, he dried himself thoroughly before wrapping it around his waist. Walking over to the cabinet, he opened it up and pulled out a capsule and began chewing it resulting in a white paste that formed in his mouth. An invention from his own time that made brushing your teeth with a primitive hard bristle brush obsolete as it cleaned your teeth, even getting between the gaps, and even destroyed large build-up plaque within seconds.

Spitting out the paste into the sink and washing it down with some water, Six closed the cabinet before heading back into his bedroom.

Walking back into his bedroom, he briefly looked around as he stepped through the door. in the centre of the room and pushed back into the wall was a large wooden bed that had been made from oak to account to his increased muscle mass and height from the augmentations. Parallel to the bed was a balcony door that led out to the garden that was hidden behind the closed grey curtains; and over at the side was a large built-in wardrobe that came with the property.

Crossing the room, he opened the wardrobe and pulled out his clothes for the day ahead and placed them on his bed. Letting the towel drop to the floor, Six placed on some boxers before walked around the side of the bed and grabbed the dog tags that were sitting in front of the alarm clock.

Tenderly picking them up, he ran his thumb across the face of the tags to spread them out in his palm.

Carter-A259.

Kat-B320.

Emile-A239.

Jorge-052.

And...

Shaking his head since the final dogtag held no significant to him since it belonged to him, he placed the five tags around his neck before walking around the bed and stood in front of it and grabbed the black trousers and placed them on, followed by the black belt.

"Just ignoring the problem isn't going to make it go away." Dot commented as Six grabbed the light blue shirt from his bed and slipped it on.

"I beg to differ." Six countered as he did up the buttons of his shirt before tucking it into the trousers before walking over to the chest of drawers and pulled out the top compartment and grabbed a simple black tie.

"You've been ignoring it for the last ten years and your symptoms are only getting worse." Dot retorted refusing to back down on the subject knowing stubborn Spartans, or at least her Spartan, could be. "PTSD is nothing to be ashamed of, Six."

"And it hasn't affected my performance." He stated as he did a simple Windsor knot and adjusted his tie making sure that it was on straight. The last thing he wanted was to look like a moron that didn't even know how to put a tie on properly, especially since today was the start of his new job at the 99th precinct in Brooklyn; first impressions were important after all...even if he didn't really care what people thought about him.

As long as they could do their job properly and acted in a professional manner that's all that mattered...though from the files that Dot had compiled regarding his new squad clearly some took their job more seriously than others. Although, it was possible that he would be supposed, unlikely but anything was possible he guessed.

"Perhaps not physically." The Artificial Intelligence concurred as Six placed on the black waistcoat and did the buttons up. "But what about your mental health?"

"I passed my mental evaluation exam." Six responded calmly as if that ended the discussion then and there as he looked around the room making sure everything was accounted for.

"That's not the point I'm trying to make, Six." She complained as the Spartan-III commando left the bedroom and walked out into the landing and down the L-shaped stairway.

"No?"

"No." She stated sharply, and if she had an avatar, she probably would have tried to bang her head against the wall as he once again tired dodging the question with sarcasm. "What I'm trying to say is that it's high time you start talking to people..."

"I..."

"And I don't mean the perps you interrogate." Dot cut the Spartan off knowing exactly what he was going to say as he reached the bottom on the stairs and walked into the kitchen, the light coming on as he entered the room. "I mean getting to know the people you work with on a personal level rather than keeping things strictly professional and keeping them at arm's length like you did at the academy and at your previous stations."

"I wasn't there to make friends."

"Yes, as you've told me on numerous occasions." If she had eyes, she probably would have rolled them. "But the world won't come to an end if Noble Six makes a friend." Dot told him as the Spartan walked over to the counter and grabbed the kettle before taking it over to the sink to fill it up with water. "Don't you think you deserve a little bit of happiness."

"We both know the answer to that question."

"Could you stop being such a pessimist for just five seconds?" She objected even if she knew there was little point arguing with him as he walked back over to the counter and placed the kettle back onto the stand and flipped the switch. "Like I said the worlds not going to end if you find a bit of happiness. Some women from New York could make an honest man out of you if you give them the chance...I'm certain that Amelia would jump at the chance to go on a date with you if you asked her; as would the other women that are attracted to you."

"Amelia is a work colleague." Six told her firmly as he waited for the kettle to boil as she once again brought up his personal life. Even if he had been interested in starting a relationship, which he wasn't, the mission took precedent over everything else, whether that was job as a detective or protecting humanity from the shadows as a Spartan.

"Ex-work colleague." She reminded him referring to the fact that he now no longer worked with Amelia at the 0-7 after being transferred to the 99. "Besides there are no regulations stopping cops from dating each other."

"Enough, Dot." Six abruptly ended the discussion then and there.

"Fine." The A.I back down at his insistence. "But would you at least get to know these people instead of keeping your distance?" She asked as Six crossed his arms across his chest and leaned against the marble top counter as he waited for the kettle to boil. "There are no laws saying that you can't be friends with the people you work with; goodness knows how long it took before you agreed to socialize with your old squad."

"We'll see." He said promising nothing. Like he said he wasn't there to make friends but rather to do the job; though he was still curious why Captain Raymond Holt had personally transferred him when he himself hadn't been there long and the fact that the precinct already had a full roster of detectives...again, some better than others.

Although he suspected that it had to do with the fact that the 99 was his first command after spending the last eight years in Public Affairs. Looking over the list of accomplishments that the man had over his thirty-six years on the force such as having over six-hundred arrests, the most notable being Colin Hames, otherwise known as Freestyle Killer, and Earnest Zumowski, better known as the Disco Strangler, he should have been given his own command years ago.

The only thing that had held him back was discrimination for being a black man and a homosexual. Throughout the twentieth and twenty-first century, well all through history really, prejudice ran strong. Humans often feared and hated what they didn't understand, or thought was inferior.

Thankfully by the time of the twenty-sixth century no-one cared about the colour of someone's skin or their sexual preference; it was unfortunate that Holt had been born in this era, he would have excelled a few centuries later rather than being held back like he had been thus far.

Still, he guessed it really wasn't any of his business. He was capable of many things but changing the beliefs racial bigoty was beyond even his capabilities he was afraid; besides, there would come a time when that mindset would be eradicated. Maybe not yet, but the day would come.

"That's all I'm asking, Six." Dot's voice pulled the Spartan from his inner-monologue and back to reality. "Well, if you need anything just give me a call." She added before her voice cut out leaving the super soldier standing alone in the kitchen and looked down to see that the kettle had boiled. Shaking his head, he opened the cupboard to grab a mug and the jar of coffee to make himself a hot drink.

If the people back home could have seen him know he doubted that they would have recognized him. Not only having a home and a decent amount of land that was located outside of the city, but also making himself a hot beverage before he started a job that didn't revolve around killing Insurrectionists or Covenant...it was almost human.

Within a few hours the sun had risen above Brooklyn cutting through the perpetual darkness of the night and replaced by bright blue skies and thick white clouds. As usual it was overcrowded as pedestrians flocked together and moved through the city as they went about their daily lives. The roads fared no better as the streets were overflowing with heavy traffic that had pretty much come to a standstill.

As expected from the most populated city in America.

In the Ninety-Ninth precinct that was located on the corner of Flatbush Avenue, it was a mundane Monday morning as the detectives sluggishly arrived after having the weekend off and prepared themselves for another week ahead with their new Captain. Some relishing the prospect of having a commanding officer that took his job seriously, while others wanted nothing more than to have the previous Captain back who would've let them get away with murder if they brought him a hamburger.

"Morning, Rosa." Detective Amy Santiago greeted the toughest and admittingly terrifying Rosa Diaz as she walked into the bullpen wearing her usual combination of leather and jeans and rocking a pair of black sunglasses. "Good weekend?"

"Same old, same old." Rosa replied coolly as she walked through the gate and into the bullpen with a black motorcycle helmet under her arm.

"Get up too much?"

"The usual."

"And that is?" Amy asked amicably genuinely curious considered that no one, not even Jake who had gone to the academy with Rosa, knew what she did in her spare time. Most of the squad could see her kicking puppies and scaring children for fun but none of them were brave enough to say it out loud, regardless of if she was in the room or not.

"..."

"..."

"..."

"Cool. Great convo!" Amy laughed self-consciously as an awkward silence dawned over the bullpen as Rosa simply stared at her making her extremely uncomfortable before she walked away missing the sigh of relief that she released as the former headed towards the kitchen to grab a fresh, and that was being charitable, mug of coffee to start her day.

"Ohhh," A sardonic voice hissed from behind her making Amy look over her shoulder to see Gina, Charles, and Terry walking through the gate and into the bullpen. "That hurt me." Gina winced ridiculing her as she made a face. "But it's great that you're trying to make a friend."

"I have friends!" Amy cried out though much louder than she meant too as she noticed Captain Holt looking up from the paperwork he was reviewing in his office and sent her a scathing look...at least that's what it looked like. She brought her hand up and down fumbling as she found herself between staying silent and offering an apology. When he returned to what he was doing she sighed for a second time.

"While I'm sure it was cute when you were little girl, calling books your friends now is just a little sad." Gina said condescendingly as she walked over to her desk that was located to the side of Captain Holt's office.

"Books can be your friends." Amy mumbled quietly to herself hoping no one would hear her. She had many fond memories reading books as a childhood...however apparently being a bookworm was uncool by today's standards. Yeah, well tell that to Abraham Lincoln. Theodore Roosevelt. Jane Austin and..."

"I believe you, Amy." Charles said sympathetically pulling her from her thoughts regarding the great historical figures of the past that appreciated a good book just as much as she did to see him standing over by his desk removing his coat.

"Thanks, Charles." She wasn't sure whether she should be scornful or grateful that Charles believed her.

"Where's Jake?" Charles asked as he looked around for any sign of his best friend making Amy roll her eyes at his man crush.

"I'm sure the idiots overslept again." Amy responded as she turned around on her chair and booted up her computer. "He'll never impress Captain Holt at this rate." she added with a smug undertone.

"Jake's the best cop in the entire precinct..."

"Second best."

"Captain Holt will warm up to up to him soon." Charles continued coming to the defence of his best friend, and either didn't hear or pretended not hear Amy interrupt him. "I mean he's amazing how could you not warm up to him?" he asked with a smile.

"What're you two talking about?" Another voice asked drawing their attention to see Terry standing behind them looking as physically imposing as always as he looked down at them like a father about to scold them.

"Not much." Amy quickly intervened knowing that once Charles started talking about how great Jake was, he wouldn't stop. "Good weekend, Sarge?" She asked as Rosa walked over holding a freshly made mug of steaming coffee; she might have to grab herself a mug when she finished talking to the others.

"I took Sharon and the twins to Central Park for the day." The Sergeant smiled widely more than happy to tell the squad about his weekend with his family. "Cagney and Lacey love it there." he laughed cheerfully as he mentioned his baby girls to his team. "On our next vacation I think I might take Sharon and the girls on a woodland break far away from the city," his smile began to fall as a distant look appeared in his dark eyes. "Away from the action...away from the danger..."

"You okay, Sarge?" Rosa asked raising a dark brow hearing the trembling in Terry's voice.

"I'm fine!" He cried out getting odd looks from Amy, Rosa, and Charles...and if you looked over in the corner, you'd see Gina also looking somewhat interested as she looked up from her phone. "I'm fine." He coughed into his hand to move the conversation along. "I was going to wait until Jake got here," he stated as he looked around for any sign for his best, but most immature detective. "But as I'm guessing he's going to be running late..."

"Isn't he always?" Amy retorted unable to not take a jab at Jake.

"Yeah." The Sergeant grumbled. With Holt now in charge he had really been hoping that Jake would buck up his ideas and start acting in a professional manner. He was his best detective, as he had told the captain on his first day at the 99, the only thing that was holding his back from being the best detective was his childish antics...that and he was terrible at finishing paperwork; he usually found himself having to check it to make sure it was done correctly and hadn't mislabelled any evidence.

Like he had done with the Kristoff murder that unfortunately Captain Holt had seen.

"Anyway, he'll find out for himself when he gets in." Terry informed the squad. "From today we'll be having a new detective joining the Nine-Nine after being transferred from the 0-7 by Captain Holt." he revealed getting varied reactions from his team.

"Must be serious if the captain had them transferred here." Amy commented as he glanced at the captain office to see Holt still working on the paperwork. Though it now made sense why he kept looking at the clock in the room.

"I guess." Rosa shrugged uninterested as she sipped her coffee. As long as they did nothing to irritate her, she didn't really care...though deep down she really hoped this new detective wouldn't be too enthusiastic and tried to be all buddy, buddy with her. She hated those people; she already had Charles and Amy for that they didn't need another.

"Another detective?" Charles asked frowning ever-so-slightly. "Are you sure that's a good idea, Sarge? Why damage the status quo...worse, what if Jake likes them more than me and replaces me with them? I think I'd kill myself if that happened and that's not a figure of speech, I mean I would actually..."

"No one is stealing Jake from you, Charles." Terry assured the eccentric detective. However, before he could say anything else to reassure Charles that he would not be getting replaced, either at the precinct or as Jake best friend, the elevator dinged drawling everyone's attention.

Holding onto the edge of their seats, or holding a breath they didn't know they were holding, they watched as the doors, which seemed to be going slower than usual, opened before...

"Urgh," Amy complained as the doors opened. "It's just Hitchcock and Scully." as two of the oldest and laziest detectives of the precincts stepped out of the elevator.

"Morning, guys." Scully greeted the squad with a benign smile as he waved at his friends...Hitchcock meanwhile...

"Sup, turds."

Before anyone could retort a third person stepped out of the elevator by ducking beneath the metal frame before standing up to their full height and towered over everyone, even Terry who was considered to be the precincts loveable giant, making their eyes widen as they stared dumbly at the newcomer.

The man in question had thick, medium black hair that was combed back, intense deep blue eyes that scanned the room like a predator searching for its prey...yet there was a sadness to them, stern and passionless features with numerous scars some light and almost faded while others were more prominent such as the larger one that ran down his eye that gave him a wild and dangerous look, but did little to diminish his good looks.

He was wearing a light blue shirt that had the sleeves rolled up and did very little to hide his broad shoulders and herculean build beneath, to be frank he looked like he could give Terry a run for his money, a black waistcoat and tie. Black trousers that pressed against his large thighs and powerful legs, and had his badge connected to his belt, and had a black shoulder holster where his Glock 19, the standard sidearm of the NYPD was stored.

As he looked in their direction, his cold blue eyes locked onto them making Amy swallow a lump in her throat as the scarred, and admittingly handsome man regarded them for a second. Charles suddenly looked a little unnerved, while Rosa approved of the warrior vibe that she was getting from him as he walked over to them and carried himself with a cold confidence as he pushed the gate open.

"Squad," before anything else could said Captain Holt stepped out of his office to address the room. "Meet Detective Jericho Reach. He has transferred from the O-7 and will be joining us for the foreseeable future."

And cut! Well, here is the next chapter of The Demon of the Nine-Nine. I hope you all enjoyed it. Now I know what you're probably thinking, where the hell was Jake?! Well, this starts during episode 2 meaning that Jake is late hence why I never write him into this chapter, but he will meet Six next chapter which will be written from Six's perspective allowing you to see his thoughts regarding the squad.

Also, I'm going to have to go back and correct a few things in the first chapter such as Six being a cop for ten years rather than a couple and the reason for that is that I didn't realize how old the Squad were. But just so you know Six/Jericho Reach is between 29-30 years old in this crossover pretty much matching Amy, Rosa, and Jake's age rather than having him younger than them.

Also, since Six has been in the past for the decade I plan to include another aspect of his private life outside being a Cop/Detective and a Vigilante. Two people know what it is but I'm not going to spoil it yet. But it will be brought up in later chapters.

And as you saw from the name drop of Amelia, Six obviously knowns people outside of the squad.