Episode 0–2: Unfamiliar Faces

July 21, 9:51 PM. Building 201. Phoenix's Apartment.

"Well," Phoenix huffed, dropping the bag he was carrying onto the floor, "that's the last of it. Thank goodness you didn't have a lot of stuff."

Pam followed her brother into his apartment. It was bigger than her old one had been. The living room, bathed in white, led straight into a small kitchen. Shelves lined the walls, filled with things as official as law books to figurines of action heroes. There was only one bedroom, but she'd already agreed to sleep on the old green couch. Her brother kept the place pretty clean, aside from a few food wrappers sprinkled around. She gently placed her box on the couch.

"What can I say? I pack light." She pushed her duffel bag full of clothes close to the couch. She'd already brought in the uniform bag with her work clothes, which were hung up in a hall closet. There were only a few smaller boxes that her brother had brought in, full of mementoes she had collected over the years. Pam grabbed some spare clothes out of her duffel bag, relishing the thought of taking a nice, long shower.

"Hey, what's in this box?" Phoenix asked. Pam turned and watched, horrified, as her brother tried to open the box she had just carried in. She jumped forward, slamming her hands on the lid. Phoenix raised his hands in surrender, eyebrows jumping into his spiky hair. Pam smiled, forcing the corners of her mouth up. It probably looked more like a pained grimace.

"Er…it's full of old papers and stuff. Things from college that I never threw away. Old binders, tests, things like that."

Her brother backed up a step. His hands were still in the air, and his eyes were still on her box. "Sorry…"

"It's okay. Don't worry about it." Pam put the box with her clothes, shoving a few loose papers back into the box with shaky hands. "I brought it with me. You never know when you are going to need to brush up on old skills. I didn't want you looking because…" She trailed off, scrambling for an excuse. One of the papers had a series of numbers on the front. She pushed it inside, saying, "…it's full of bad grades. You know me, always the perfectionist."

Phoenix slowly put his hands down. His eyes slowly (very slowly) pulled away from the box. She silently cursed herself, hand curling into her pants. He used to be easy to dupe…I guess he has learned something after all.

"Right, got it." He turned on his heel, shrugging and heading toward the kitchen. "Don't touch the box. I'll respect your privacy." Pam relaxed as he left, forcing her fists to relax. She grabbed her spare clothes with a deep breath, sending a glance to the box. She'd have to get her own place, if only to keep her secrets…well, secret.

"Thanks, Phee. I think I'll take a shower really quick. It's been a couple days—"

"I don't want to hear it!" Phoenix yelled. "Just take your shower. You smelled terrible during lunch!"

"Did not!" Pam didn't get an answer back, but she could hear her brother laughing from the other room. She walked down the hall, taking a quick sniff of her clothes. She recoiled, hand jumping to her nose. Yeah, I need a shower. Hopefully Mia didn't think I was a slob.

It only took a few seconds to figure out how the shower worked. Pam stood under the freezing cold water, closing her eyes. It felt like her skin was covered in layers of grime. She scrubbed ever inch of her skin until she was pink. Her hair was the roughest part, but untangling it proved a good distraction. It was only until after she had gotten out of the water that her problems came back to haunt her. Pam looked in the mirror, now in Christmas themed pajamas she had never thrown away.

I look…awful. Nothing like the detective she so claimed herself to be. Her grey eyes were rimmed with red from lack of sleep. Her face was pale. She'd always been light-skinned, but now she looked sickly and weak. The freckles across her nose stood out against the white background. Even her hair—long, black, and newly washed—seemed to weigh more than usual. Pam rubbed a hand over her face, groaning at the thought of keeping up this charade. No wonder Phee was worried about me. I look like I'm about to keel over. Eventually she was going to slip, and her brother was going to notice. It didn't matter if she was a good detective or a terrible one. Having to keep something this big for this long would cause some serious problems. She poked at the bags under her eyes.

Sleep exhaustion, that's all. Who has a proper sleep schedule nowadays, anyhow?

Pam threw her dirty clothes into the nearby hamper. Leaving the bathroom, she was greeted by her brother. He froze in the doorway. He looked like he had been trying to sneak by. In one hand was a stack of movies, old ones by the look of it. In the other was a bowl of popcorn. From the smell of it, it was freshly popped.

"Um…Phee? Did you want to watch a movie?" Pam closed the door behind her, smirking at her brothers bashful grin.

"If I said yes, would you make fun of me?"

"Not at all. Let's see what you got there…" Pam took the movies. There were three, all classics from their childhood. Clyde's Rodeo Showdown. The Dark Secrets of Dr. Death. The Adventure of Ad and Ven. The two twins had watched these movies so much that they had memorized the lines. She smiled, handing the movies back to her blushing brother. "How long have you been planning this, I wonder?" He shrugged, finding the wall to her right to be very interesting.

"Ever since lunch, really. I mean, if you are going to stay here for a while, we might as well have some fun with it!"

"Don't you have work in the morning?" asked Pam. "And I have to head to the police department. Don't you think it's a bad idea to stay up too late?" It was already dark outside. Her brother pulled her toward the couch.

"Please, Pam, we are both adults. We are responsible enough to determine when we need to go to sleep."

Phoenix's argument could have been better, but Pam let it slide. He was bouncing up and down with excitement, spilling bits of popcorn as he went. Pam didn't have the energy to put up a fight. She sat down, pulling a blanket over her shoulder with a yawn. She doubted she would be able to stay awake through the first 30 minutes. Phoenix handed her the bowl before putting one of the disks in. She nibbled on a piece of popcorn while he tried to get the TV to work.

Well, who was she to stop that happiness? She settled into her seat, finding a comfortable spot where the back of the couch met the arm. Phoenix turned around, remote in hand, grin on his face. He jumped onto the spot beside her, pressing the play button. Western theme music filled the room.

"Alright!" Phoenix pumped his fist. "Movie marathon, just like old times."

"You're a nerd."

"And you're a buzzkill," he fired back. "Just watch the movies, Pam."

She settled back, eyes dropping as the movie started. For just a moment, Pam could forget about her troubles in the voice of the star sheriff Clyde, and in the presence of her brother.

July 22, 7:40 AM. Building 201. Phoenix's Apartment.

Pam had woken up in many weird places. On her last day of college, she woke up with a particularly bad hangover, in the middle of a park (thankfully unharmed). She once woke up in a coworkers office chair, though she remembered sleeping in one of the break rooms. But this time took the cake. Pam woke up early, cracking her eyes open to the dark room, only illuminated by the dull flickering of the TV screen. She snuggled into her blanket, trying to remember where she was.

Obviously she wasn't in her truck. Her neck didn't have a catch in it, and her back felt nice and supported. She was on a couch, with a fuzzy blanket, and a heavy weight over her legs. Since that was the weirdest feeling she had experienced so far, she sat up. And she was immediately stopped by an ungainly object near her face.

Pam lay there, staring at her brother's foot. Her eye began to twitch.

Phoenix was on the other end of the couch, his face half buried in the other couch pillow. He looked peaceful, not even snoring as he continued to sleep. No matter how peaceful he may be, his foot was in her face. Eye still twitching, Pam shoved her brother's foot away, off the couch. She must have put more force in it than she thought. Her brother woke up with a yelp as he was thrown to the carpeted floor.

"Ooowww…" Phoenix moaned. Pam stretched, wincing when her back popped. He sat up, rubbing his side. "That was uncalled for…"

Pam chose to ignore her brother, instead reaching for her watch. She had laid it on the coffee table the night before. It read 7:42. Still early then. She rubbed her eyes, curling up into her blanket.

"Are you okay?" she asked. Her voice was deep, heavy with sleep.

"Yeah, nothing's injured but my pride." He turned off the TV. "I guess I fell asleep. Sorry, I didn't mean to take up your space."

"It's fine. You've already paid for your crime." Never leaving her couch, Pam threw her watch to her brother. Phoenix caught it after a bit of fumbling. "What time do you have to be at work?" Her brother sat in the floor, legs crossed. He blinked slowly at the watch, rubbing the crust out of his eyes, before springing up. He dropped her watch on the floor. She lazily retrieved it, using his pillow to inch it closer to her.

"I'm gonna be late!"

Pam had never seen her brother move so fast. She blinked, and he was gone. She heard his bedroom door shut with a wham. Shaking her head, she chuckled. Pam had warned him about staying up. Maybe she should have been a bit more persuasive.

Oh well. I should probably get ready for my long day, too.

Pam grabbed her phone. It had just enough battery for a few calls. Guess I forgot to charge it. She tossed her blanket aside, shivering without the warmth. She searched through her bags and boxes, rubbing her arms with a fierceness. After a minute of searching, she found a slip of paper wedged between her duffel and the box from last night. On it was a phone number for the LAPD. Pam dragged a hand down her face, flopping back down on the couch.

"I am so not ready for this…" Pam mumbled. She noticed Phoenix dart out of his room and run toward the kitchen, a blur of blue against the white background. For now, she would have to ignore him. She slowly dialed the number. Silently, she hoped the line would be busy. Surely the LAPD were busy?

Click! "This is the Los Angeles Police Department, Lacy speaking."

Pam barely held back her groan. Instead of being a child about it, she pinched her leg, hard.

"Yes, hello. My name is Pamola Wright. I am supposed to be transferred to the LAPD from the New York Police?" Pam heard the rustling of papers before Lacy spoke again. The receptionist had a light, airy voice.

"Let me just check some things on my end…hm…I need to put you on hold. Is that all right?" Pam hadn't even opened her mouth before the hold music blared from her phone. She pulled the phone away from her ear and frowned at it. Impatient lady. She looked up as her brother rushed from the kitchen. He had a piece of toast in his mouth as he tied the tie.

"Gotta run," he said, enunciating his words so she could hear through the bread. "The Chief'll really get me if I'm late again. I'll see ya later, foods in the fridge." Pam barely raised her hand before he was gone, front door slamming behind him.

"…bye?" she said to the empty apartment. Without her brother's bumbling, it was ominously quiet. Pam stood and began pacing the room. Her feet steadily thumped across the floor as she went. She would rather not be left alone with her thoughts, thank you very much. Luckily the hold music clicked off, and Lacy was back.

"Are you still there, ma'am?"

"Yes," Pam hastily said, "still here."

"Right, so, I see where your transfer came through. You have your official records?"

"Yes, of course."

"Your badge, any papers informing us of any misconduct, etc.?"

Pam grit her teeth. "Yes."

"Letter of recommendation?"

"Again, yes."

"Perfect!" chimed the perky woman. "We happen to have an open time today. When would you be able to come in?" Pam glanced at her watch again. She didn't have a lot planned.

"Any time is fine."

"Well, the Chief has an opening around 11. If you could stop by then, with all the appropriate paperwork, then we can get you an interview…" The lady went on and on and on. Pam kept pacing the entire time, a headache growing the more the lady talked. She told Pam about the interview, let her know she would have to take a test, went on at great length about how she would have to talk to the Chief of Police and the Chief of Detectives. When the call finally ended, Pam had never been so grateful. She closed her phone with relish, imagining the receptionist was getting squished between the casing.

"11, huh?" Pam grabbed the empty popcorn bowl from the table, tossing it in the kitchen sink as she went to make herself some food. "Guess I've got time to burn." While she waited, Pam decided to be a good sister. She made up the couch, washed the one dish, and picked up the popcorn that had gotten all over the floor. As it got closer to 11, she got ready, dressing like she would have back in New York.

Simple white button-down shirt over a white tank top. Khaki pants reaching down to her calves. Black shoes that were great for walking in an office or chasing down a criminal. Black button-down coat that reached down to her thighs, something that kept her warm even though it looked a bit worse for wear. She put her hair up in a bun, all but one strand that always seemed to stay by her right ear no matter how much she tried. Badge in the inner pocket, empty holster at the hip.

Sorry, bud, she thought, setting her handgun in her duffel. I won't be needing you today.

Pam headed out, easily finding her battered truck in the parking lot. It was an old model, a dirty light brown color sticking to it like an old stain. It was never hard to find, and the large dents in it warded off anyone who would want to steal it. She had looked up where the police department was the night before. The only problem was the heavy traffic. It took her a whole ten minutes to get out of the lot. Pam tapped her hands against her steering wheel. She let her head fall back on the headrest as they moved an inch forward.

At least the car's still in one piece. The old truck definitely deserved a tune up after the journey Pam put it through.

She let her eyes wander along the road in her spare time. There was every type of car imaginable. Small, electric cars, giant tractor trailers, fancy sports cars for the elite. Her poor truck was…humble in comparison. Pam tried to focus on the drive.

Though the closer she got, the more trepidation she felt.

Finally, after at least a half hour of driving, she made it. The police department stood out like a sore thumb. It towered over the other buildings, going up at least 15 floors. She pulled in, parking her truck in the visitors section. She grabbed her papers, wincing when she felt the badge through her jacket. If she was lucky, they would give her a new one. Then she could toss her old one into the fire and forget it ever existed.

(And yet she never could seem to ditch the stupid thing.)

The inside of the department was more chaotic than the outside made it seem. Officers buzzed around the room like bees, carried things from coffee to official documents. Detectives crowded around computers or huddled in meeting rooms. If Pam shut her eyes, she could imagine she was back in New York. She did, only for her daydream to be interrupted by a squeaky voice.

"E-excuse me!" Pam opened her eyes, glaring at the young man who had addressed her. He was much taller than her, but he still seemed frightened of her despite the height difference. His arm was raised in a sharp salute. He seemed to be a simple police officer. Around his neck hung a megaphone, and he wore a typical police cap. He flinched back even though she hadn't made a single move toward him. "H-h-how c-can I help you?"

Pam ignored him for a moment, scanning the room. There was a crowd of people around the receptionists desk. They must be dishing out the work, since that receptionist is swamped…She held back a sigh, holding up her manila folder.

"I have an appointment with the Chief of Detectives? I believe his name was Mr. Dense?"

The meek officer looked over the document. Pam didn't think he knew what to do with it. He really didn't seem qualified to be directing people around the department. Pam frowned when the poor man started sweating, badly. He raised his megaphone, and Pam barely had time to cover her ears before he started yelling.

"UNDERSTOOD!" The entire lobby turned to look at the two of them. Pam swore that a vein was going to pop out of her head. She barely managed to keep her face blank. No one but the best detectives would have noticed her annoyance. The officer turned to the receptionist. "Miss Lacy, this lady says she has an appointment with—"

"Oh, for crying out loud, Officer Meekins!" The receptionist stood from her desk, pointing toward a door to the right. "Just take her through there! Meeting Room C! And quit it with the megaphone!"

Pam pinched the bridge of her nose, following the stuttering officer down the halls. He did his best to make conversation, but Pam didn't really pay attention. She was weighing the folder in her hands. She gripped the edges hard in an effort to get her hands to stop shaking.

I hope this gets me somewhere…she thought. Please, just…be something.

They came to a stop in front of one of the many conference rooms.

"HERE WE ARE!" Officer Meekins screamed. Pam walked in without looking back, eager to get away from the loud officer. "I'll get the Chief for you, ma'am! It'll only take a few minutes, ma'am! Thank you for your patience, ma'am—"

Pam slammed the door shut. The solid wood easily silenced the rowdy officer, and Pam could finally have some peace and quiet. She took a seat in one of the chairs, laying her folder on the table. She checked the windows, and, making sure she was alone, let down her guard for a moment. Pam went to run a hand through her hair, stopping when she bumped against her bun. Who knew how long it would take for that officer to get the Chief of Detectives and Police?

The only sound in the room was the ticking clock.

I need to be on my A game. Pam sat up straight, taking a few deep breaths. I'm in deep now. I need to make a good first impression if I'm going to pull this off.

So, she brought up her walls. Cool grey eyes that could pick apart the smallest of details. An unamused face that couldn't be cracked. Pam was a clear-cut detective, and no one could tell her otherwise. That was the truth. It was her truth. She ran a hand over her face. Please, it's gotta be true, or you'll blow it.

After a few minutes, there was movement outside the door. It opened, and Pam quickly stood. She pushed down any of her doubts. She'd have to deal with them later. For now, she was coming face to face with her soon-to-be employers.

The first man was unassuming. Partially balding on the top, with gray hair on the side. White male, glasses, and a little twitchy. He didn't seem like he was entirely eager to have this meeting. The other man was taller and much, much stranger. Said man was wearing a hideous orange suit, rubbing his hands together. He pulled on a wild white hair, studying Pam. She returned the favor. The guy seemed like quite the character. Pink glasses sat on his nose. They had to be for his eyesight because they definitely didn't help with his fashion sense. Pam held out her hand.

"Sir, I'm Pamola Wright." Orange-suit Man shook her hand, smiling with blindingly white teeth. Pam noted that his hands were colder than hers, an impressive feat. She shook her head, putting the thought away. "Thank you for seeing me on such short notice."

"Well, of course, Wrighto! Say, have you gone swimming lately?"

Pam paused, sweat rolling down her neck. "Er, no, sir."

"Ah, that's too bad. Why don't we all take a seat, yeah?" The man's voice carried throughout the room. The three sat. Pam noticed that the partially bald man had taken out a piece of paper and was hurriedly writing something on it. At first, she thought he was taking notes on the interview. On closer inspection, it looked like he was drawing a picture. Orange-suit leaned forward, blocking Pam's view. "It's good to meet one of my old pal's pupils! The name's Damon Gant. I am the Chief of Police here at the LAPD. How was old Puffy? Still being a party killer?"

Puffy? Was he talking about her old Chief? Pam had never heard someone call Puffington that. He would probably have killed anyone who tried. Still, her old Chief did mention that he had been friends with this Gant guy. Maybe it was something he was called back in the day. Realizing the man was waiting for an answer, she responded.

"He's fine. Up to his ears in work, I'm sure." When she didn't say anything else, Gant laughed, clapping his hands.

"Not one for many words, are you? Well, let's get on with this interview, yes?" He grabbed the manila folder, opening the top. "This is for me, I assume."

"Yes sir. It's Chief Puffington's letter of recommendation, as well as some other information about my work at the NYPD." Pam leaned to the side, frowning as the man she assumed was Mr. Dense continued to doodle on his paper. This guy had to be the Chief of Detectives, so why was he acting like a little child put in detention? She cleared her throat but didn't get his attention. "Pardon me for asking, sir, but shouldn't Mr. Dense be conducting the interview?"

Gant waved her comment away, already scanning the letter. "Don't mind him. What kind of friend would I be to old Puffy if I didn't sit in on an interview with one of his own?"

It really seems like you are conducting the interview, not just sitting in…Pam grit her teeth and nodded. Gant, seemingly content with skimming the letter, set it back in the folder. He pulled on the white of his hair.

"Well, Puffy sure seemed to think highly of you! This letter is a glowing recommendation!" He nudged his glasses up on his nose, only for them to fall back down. "However, we weren't expecting you to come so soon. When Puffy called me, he said you wouldn't be here for another week."

Pam tucked the loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I left sooner than he expected. I had to meet up with some family and had to settle my living situation." Not a total lie, anyway. "I'm sorry if my arrival was inconvenient for you, sir."

Gant studied the young woman for what seemed like hours. He might look foolish, but this guy's got something hard in his eyes. Pam felt more relaxed when he finally looked away.

"No trouble at all, Wrighto!" He laughed, startling his coworker. "I've heard a lot about you from ol' Puffy! Really, this interview is nothing to worry about. However, there is one thing he did tell me. It was quite interesting." Pam swallowed. Her throat had suddenly gotten very, very dry.

"Oh?"

"Yes. I heard you've gone through some…troubling times, and that perhaps that is why you wished for a change in location." Gant sat back in his seat, looking out the window with a harsh stare. "It's a shame when you lose one of your own. I've experienced it myself, not too long ago. New York must have lost a good cop." Pam screwed her eyes shut, silently cursing her former Chief. Really, did he need to blab everything? She squeezed her thigh as hard as she could stand, looking back at the suddenly quiet Police Chief.

"It is true that I went through a bad event in New York. However, it will not affect my ability to work. I only wish to help put criminals behind bars and protect innocent people, sir. What happened there…will not stop me from doing that." Man, why does it feel like this guy is already sizing me up? Gant had taken the manila folder in his hands, looking at it with that harsh stare from before. He looked like he was going to rip it up right then and there. The temperature in the room seemed to dip. Pam tugged her jacket a little closer to her body. Thankfully, Gant broke out into a wide grin seconds later.

"Well, I am glad to hear it, Wrighto! I like your moxie! I can see why Puffy saw potential in you!" Pam let out a breath as the giant man clapped his hands, the folder tucked under his arm. "Well, let's get on with the interview. Tell me, Wrighto, what is your favorite color? It's an important quality for the department to know!"

Pam felt sweat roll down her face. "Er…light blue, I suppose." She settled back into her seat, preparing herself for a long, arduous interview.

Surely this won't be that bad, right?

July 22, 4:00 PM. Police Department. Entrance.

Pam stumbled out of the department. She breathed in the fresh air, glad to be out of that stuffy interview room. The concrete wall was a great place for her to lean, and a perfect place to catch her breath. She buttoned up her jacket, letting her head rest against the department's outside wall.

Gant was nothing like her old Chief. He was strange, asking weird questions about her personal life only sprinkling in a few legitimate ones. He was loud and obnoxious one second, then cool and collected the next. She wouldn't want to be the criminal pitted up against him. Talking with Chief Gant took most of the time. Once they handed her the test, things went much faster.

Now I just wait and see if they call me back. Pam stretched her arm over her head, taking in the moment of calm. Though from the sound of it, that Gant guy is going to go ahead and OK the transfer. One less problem to worry about, I suppose. She checked her phone. It would probably be a good idea to check with Phoenix and tell him the news. But her lack of foresight came back to bite her. It must have run dead during the meeting.

Well, I guess I'll just go home then. She made her way to her poor truck. Maybe I can make some dinner for Phoenix. As a thank you. She had just inserted her key into the door when the sound of screeching tires filled the air. Pam's neck cracked when she looked over her shoulder toward the street entrance of the Police Department. A police car cruised inside, but that's not what got her attention. Behind it rode a sleek, red sports car, something that definitely outshone everything else in the parking lot. It parked next to the police car that had entered. They were on the other side of the parking lot, but it was easy to see who came out of the car.

The first man came out of the police cruiser. He wore a large jacket to hide his equally large body, and his black hair held a similar spiky-ness to her brothers. The other man, the one driving the sports car, had on much fancier, red clothes. The man in red slammed his door shut. Even from this distance, Pam could tell he wasn't happy to be there. The two men had an argument, ending with the duo entering the police department. All the while, the man in the jacket seemed to be apologizing to the man in red, whose face was set in gloom.

If the transfer does end up going through, I hope I can avoid the maniacs. She started her car, pulling out of the parking lot. She glanced in the rearview mirror, managing to see that the man in red had left, stomping back to his car with a bundle of papers in his arms. Whatever he had come here for, he must have gotten it. I'll just…keep my head down. The strange people she had seen quickly left her mind when she started driving. She had done all she could at the LAPD. Now she just had to sit back and wait.

Pam tapped her fingers against the wheel, humming under her breath. She should probably hide that box, the one Phoenix tried to open. It would take too long to explain to him what was inside. If he got too curious, he would look, and then Pam would be in a heap of trouble. Maybe that would be her next objective. Hide the box, wait for the call, and make the best pasta in hopes that her brother would forget her slip up the night before.

She sighed, turning on the radio. "When did my life get so complicated?"