Chapter 19: New Jobs and New Recruits

A lot had changed in the month since Troy Harrison, Adam Xander, and Dakota Michaels had taken and successfully passed their LSPD Sergeant's exams. Sergeant Harrison was assigned to supervise the dayshift patrol squad at the LSPD's Headquarters in Rockford Hills. Sergeant Xander, meanwhile, was assigned to supervise the dayshift squad at the Vinewood Station.

Sergeant Michaels was the only one in the trio of friends who remained at the South-Central Station, where he supervised the dayshift patrol squad while also earning a secondary position as a team supervisor with the Tactical Unit.

In keeping with both departmental protocol and unofficial tradition, all promotions became official within 6 weeks of the LSPD Academy graduation. This was done so that all newly-certified police officers could be assigned a Field Training Officer in a timely enough manner. As such, all three of the new sergeants were assigned a rookie officer to teach and supervise.

In Rockford Hills, Harrison was assigned to work with 26-year-old Officer Declan Fostenberg. The son of famed sci-fi film director Mark Fostenberg, the lofty and athletically-built Fostenberg was, at one time, a professional skateboarder who eventually parlayed his fame into a hosting gig for a sports-themed reality TV show. Unfortunately, when his cocaine addiction came to light in the public eye, Declan's athletic career ostensibly crashed and burned overnight. Now having cleaned up his act, he had become a police officer to finally put his diminished fame aside for what he saw as a more conventional and selfless career path.

In Vinewood, Xander was assigned to work with 25-year-old Officer Arashel Horowitz. Known by "Shelly" for short, Horowitz was a native of Alderney City and was the only daughter of problematic action star Jack Howitzer. When Howitzer was arrested for DUI and aggravated disorderly conduct following a very public meltdown, Shelly moved to Los Santos to be closer to her newly-paroled father, becoming a police officer to try and break the cycle of addiction and impulsive behavior.

Finally, Officer Samar Hanpoor was assigned to the South-Central Station to work under Sergeant Michaels. Known by "Sam" for short, this 27-year-old Los Santos native had been raised by his hardworking single mother, a hardworking immigrant named Priya Hanpoor. Priya had left her native India while pregnant with Sam and came to the United States in search of a decent career to support both herself and her then unborn son. By the time Sam was five, Priya had established herself as a very well-known rug maker, selling her handmade wares from a small stand in Los Santos' Textile City, a job had she had held down all the way to the present day. Sam was to be afforded a very different rookie training experience by getting the opportunity to train with the Tactical Unit.

Office of Sergeant Troy Harrison
LSPD Headquarters
Rockford Hills
8:30 AM

Sergeant Harrison sat in his brand-new office at LSPD Headquarters. Aside from his large desk that sat in the center of the corner office and the beige leather-upholstered chair in front of it, the only other furnishings, at least for the moment, where the two small towers of accumulated file boxes filled with paperwork that was passed off to him by the former sergeant who used to occupy that particular office.

Another significant change was Harrison's attire. He had been somewhat compelled to trade in usually very understated jackets, button-down shirts, comfortable sneakers, and prized Fedora hat for a black LSPD patrol uniform decked out with a brand-new polished Sergeant's badge, as well as an associated Sergeant's patch sewn into the left shoulder of his uniform shirt. This new regal appearance was rounded out by a pair of very well-polished black boots on his feet.

Harrison was busy typing out a departmental memorandum on his computer when he received a knock at his office door. "Come in", he said.

The door came open, at which point Officer Declan Fostenberg entered the sergeant's office. Fostenberg was a young, blonde white man who stood at an imposing 6'2 with a very athletic-looking frame. He was also dressed in a black LSPD uniform with a black mourning band police hat on his head. "Good morning Sergeant" he warmly greeted.

Harrison looked up and smiled at the sight of his young rookie. "Ah", he said, "Good morning, Officer. Please have a seat. It's okay, you don't have to wear your hat in here." He then motioned to the leather upholstered chair in front of his desk.

Fostenberg did as he was told, removing his hat as he sat down in the chair to face his new sergeant, placing the hat in his lap. "I'm really excited to be here, sir" he spontaneously said in a giddy tone.

"Glad to hear it", Harrison said before reaching into the missile drawer of his desk and removing Fostenberg's personnel file folder, setting it on the desk. He flipped it open and began to read. "So", he continued, "'Declan James Fostenberg, age twenty-six.' It says here that you were born in Johannesburg, South Africa. That's interesting."

"Yes sir", Fostenberg replied, "My father was filming a movie there at the time and my mother lived with him on location. I was born just as the film wrapped. However, we didn't stay there long once I came into the world. I grew up here in Rockford Hills."

"And your parents are the sci-fi director Mark Fostenberg and Sasha Ponsonby-Fostenberg, right?" Harrison inquired.

"That's right", Fostenberg said, "Mom is the president and CEO of the Ponsonby's boutique chain, as well as the sole heiress to the Ponsonby's fortune. My grandfather, her dad, started the company back in the Fifties."

"If I may ask, Officer" Harrison said, "What's a rich-kid-turned-pro skateboarder and one-time TV host doing trading in his fame for a badge?"

With that, Fostenberg's demeanor changed on a dime. He momentarily hung his head, sighed, and sat back further in the chair. "It's complicated, Sergeant" he began to explain, "I suppose you know about my past addiction to cocaine and the career pitfalls I had?"

Harrison nodded. "To be honest", he replied, "Yes. They were big news stories at one time back in the day."

"Well," Fostenberg said, "I'd like to wholeheartedly assure you that my addiction and all the BS that came with it are firmly buried in my past. I've pulled my head out of my butt, Sarge. It's time to man up and work hard, and I might as well be doing it with a job that helps others."

Harrison nodded once again before turning the page of Fostenberg's personnel file. Briefly eyeballing what was on the next page, he resumed eye contact with his new rookie. "I see here that you've already arranged to have your paychecks garnished to pay alimony", he candidly said, "That would be to the troubled pop star Samantha Muldoon, correct?"

Fostenberg nodded regrettably. "Yes sir", he replied, "I assume you know we were married for five years. It was a pretty rough road for both of us, but I managed to secure a divorce with a minimum amount of alimony payments. But I still need to pay the court Fifteen-Hundred bucks a month. That's why I had my pay garnished. The alimony pays for Samantha's outpatient rehab fees after the meltdown she had."

"Ah yes", Harrison said, "As in the one she had back in June of Two-Thousand-Ten. She wigged out during an on-air interview in Little Seoul and knocked out the female reporter's front teeth before smashing up a Weasel News van with a tire iron. The court ordered her to serve ninety days in rehab and receive ongoing psychiatric care."

"That's right", Fostenberg said, "What the media doesn't tell you is that Samantha's record label dropped her soon after that, causing her to lose out on all her music royalty payments. She's been living in a small room in the basement of a church in Paleto Bay ever since."

"I see", Harrison said as he leaned back in his chair, "I'm sorry for all your past troubles, Declan. My main issue is that I want to train cops who want to be here to do the job so they can protect and serve the people of Los Santos, be they the celebrities and studio executives up in Vinewood or the low-income folks and struggling homeless people down in South LS."

A now confused Fostenberg raised an eyebrow. "Sir?" he asked.

"My point being", Harrison replied with a very blunt and candid tone, "Is that if this is some sort of elaborate attempt on your part at some sort of big Vinewood celebrity comeback, I might as well be showing you the door."

With that, Fostenberg forcibly dropped his mourning band hat on the sergeant's desktop. "That's not at all what this is, Sarge" he said with a great amount of conviction in his voice, "To put it bluntly, if I may, I spent four years busting my ass earning my Bachelor of Science in Criminal Justice at ULSA and then spent four months busting even more at the Police Academy. I couldn't give two shits about the drugs, the alcohol, or the so-called 'fame' I used to have. I'm a police officer."

Realizing how serious this young man was, Harrison put his hands up and smiled. "Alright then, Officer" he said, "Let's go out on patrol."

As a more reassured Fostenberg donned his hat and stood up from the chair, a knock came at Harrison's door. "Come in", Harrison said.

The door came open and Officer Keith Ronson stepped inside the doorway. Ronson was a tall and well-built white man in his mid-thirties who was also dressed in a black LSPD uniform.

"Hey Ronson", Harrison greeted.

"Sorry to interrupt, Sarge" Ronson replied, "But we've got a few outstanding calls that need our attention. I need to know how you'd like them handled."

"Okay", Harrison said, "What've we got this morning?"

"First is a Ten-Thirty-Seven at the Bugstars pest control company in Elysian Island", Ronson began to explain, "A fiftyish white male apparently jacked one of their company vans straight from their warehouse after punching out one of the exterminators. EMS has the guy on his way to Pillbox Hill Medical Center as we speak."

"Well," Harrison said, "The initial crime scene is out of our jurisdiction. That part of Elysian Island is the Coast Guard's responsibility. Notify their investigative service branch, put out a citywide alert on the stolen van, then post a South-Central officer at the medical center to interview the exterminator after he's seen a doctor."

Ronson nodded. "Got it", he said, "Looks like the other call is within our boundaries. It's a joint Ten-Thirty-Seven and Ten-Fourteen."

"Somebody was robbed and had their car jacked at the same time", Fostenberg chimed in.

"Right", Ronson said, "on the LS freeway. The thing is, it wasn't just any car. It was a big panel truck from Humane Labs. They manufacture and transport hazardous materials."

"Oh Jesus", Harrison said, "I guess that ups the ante, huh? Okay. The Humane Labs facility is most likely funded by federal dollars, so do me a favor and loop in an Agent Dave Norton at the FBI. They should get their people on it right away. Then, put out another alert on that vehicle. Make sure that people know that the truck has hazardous materials as its cargo and to keep a relatively safe distance should they spot it."

"Yes sir", Ronson replied with a nod, "Thank you." The officer then left the office, shutting the door behind him.

With that out of the way, Sergeant Harrison's attention turned back to Officer Fostenberg. "Ah", Fostenberg said, "The joys of being the king, huh?"

Harrison chuckled with a smirk. "My first official order", he replied, "Is for you to get your butt up out of my chair. Let's go out on patrol."

Carcer Way
Rockford Hills
15 Minutes Later

Harrison and Fostenberg were patrolling the Rockford Hills area in a marked black and white 2013 Chevrolet Impala police car, with Harrison behind the wheel and his enthusiastic rookie quite literally riding shotgun, as a black RZ17 tactical shotgun was mounted in an upward position between the two front seats.

They stopped for a red light at Carcer Way on between the two adjoining neighborhoods of Rockford Hills and Burton. "Hey Sarge?" Fostenberg inquired.

Harrison turned to Fostenberg. "Yeah, kid?" he answered.

"How'd you already know all that stuff about me and Samantha?" Fostenberg asked, "Did you used to watch my show or something?"

Harrison smirked once again in reply. "You mean was I 'Wrecking Deck Slides with Declan'?", he replied, "Honestly, no. My old dentist back in Chicago used to keep copies of the Daily Rag in his waiting room."

"Chicago, huh?" Fostenberg said, "Captain Gilligan said you used to be a detective there."

"Yep", Harrison replied, "Two years in Homicide at a CPD district on the North Side. Ten years at the FBI before that."

"This isn't exactly your first rodeo, is it Sarge?" Fostenberg asked.

"No sir", Harrison said candidly, "I have to admit, though, that I am new to the whole supervisory thing. This wasn't exactly anything I had ever thought of doing when Chief Sacco offered me the job out here."

"If it helps", Fostenberg replied, "You seem to be doing okay so far from my perspective."

Harrison patted his rookie on the shoulder. "Thank you for that, Declan" he said, "That's very kind of you." His gratitude for Fostenberg's thoughtful comments almost instantaneously switched to frustration as he looked back out through the car's windshield and noticed that the traffic light, for whatever reason, was still red. "Damn!" he exclaimed, "What is up with this stupid red light?"

It was then that Fostenberg looked out his window, which was facing Portola Drive. This infamous street, built to mirror the appearance of a small yet lavish Italian street, featured some of the most expensive high-end stores in all of Los Santos. Fostenberg noted the appearance of what looked like smoke creeping out of Vangelico Jewelers. "Sergeant!" he said, "Look over here!" He then pointed out his window.

With that, Harrison looked out the passenger window and saw for himself what his rookie was looking at. "Shit", he said, "I'm going to park the car at the edge of the stone steps. Grab the fire extinguisher out of the trunk as soon as we get out."

Fostenberg nodded as his sergeant quickly and skillfully parked the Impala at the edge of a set of three stone steps that lead into the geographically narrow row of stores. The two men hurried out of the vehicle, and while Fostenberg went to fetch the fire extinguisher from the trunk, Harrison keyed the mic on his radio handset.

"HQ-Sergeant-One to Dispatch", Harrison said into the radio, "Possible Ten-Seventy-One at Vangelico Jewelers, Portola Drive. I'm on scene with HQ-Alpha-Six and we observed what looked like smoke coming out of the front of the store, over."

Before the dispatcher could even radio in a response, Fostenberg met up with his sergeant, holding the fire extinguisher in both hands. They both hustled up to the front of the store and looked in. They noticed big plumes of what they thought was smoke and at least a dozen people lying unconscious on the floor inside.

It was then that Harrison caught a slight whiff of the mysterious smoke. "Hey Declan", he said, "I don't think this is smoke." He keyed his handset mic once again. "HQ-Sergeant-One here", he said into the radio, "I have an update. Possible chemical exposure on Portola. Multiple Ten-Fifteen victims on scene. Request LSFD, EMS, and a HAZMAT team."

"Copy that", a female dispatcher replied from the radio a few seconds later, "Fire, paramedics, and HAZMAT are on the way. Exercise caution."

[A/N: The aftermath and investigation into the jewelry heist is coming up next. Stay tuned!]