Sergeant Terry Jeffords sent a hard glare at the two officers standing in front of him and tried his hardest not to burst out into laughter. Currently, Jake and Boyle were covered from head to toe in gooey pancake syrup and trying very hard not to look too guilty. Boyle wrung his hands together, and then took a step forward.

"It's not our fault—," Boyle started.

"Not your fault? Whatever happened to getting out of the way?" Terry cut him off.

"They were pointing flamethrowers at us, we had no idea—,"

"No idea that what? That they weren't using real flamethrowers? Honestly, what were you two thinking going out undercover especially when Jake hasn't been cleared to go out into the field after Jericho—-,"

Terry did not miss the flinch from Jake as he said his name, nor did he miss the worried glance Boyle shot his partner before turning back to the Sergeant.

"It was an undercover gig at a pancake syrup factory, what could go wrong?"

"What could go wrong? EVERYTHING WENT WRONG!" Terry shouted, and then instantly regretted it as he saw Jake flinch again and then take a step backward.

"Not only did the dealer get away from you, but also the entire factory was flooded in syrup which caused a wave of the sticky stuff to cover half the neighborhood. People are calling in saying that syrup is coming in from under the floorboards so I have to ask again what in the name of hell were you thinking?"

Boyle put up his hands defensively, " I'll fix it. Okay?"

"You better, now go get cleaned up before Mean Marge sees you."

Jake was the first of the pair to turn away from Terry, he took three steps towards the bathroom and then stopped dead in his tracks. Boyle—not paying attention as usual— collided headfirst into Jake, slipped on the syrup collecting on the floor, and landed with a hard thud on the ground. Jake didn't notice any of this though, in fact, he seemed to be frozen completely as he stared at the elevator door where Captain Holt and another man were standing. Jake's face paled, and then he took off with lightning speed towards the bathroom, leaving behind Boyle on the floor and a trail of thick gooey syrup.

"Everyone, this is Warden Granville from Jericho Supermax Prison and he is visiting the 99 on police business regarding the Romero Case. Please make him feel welcome. That is all." Captain Holt announced and then gestured for the Warden to follow him into his office.

Terry waited until the door to Holt's office closed and then stepped around his desk and offered a hand down to Boyle.

Boyle took it, and Terry tried not to grimace at how sticky Boyle's hand was. He pulled Boyle up to standing.

"That did not go as planned," Boyle said, rubbing his sticky hands on his pants and shifting side to side.

"At least it got him outside for a few hours," Terry responded, and Boyle nodded his head.

"Yeah, at least there's that."

"Did he say anything?" Terry asked.

"Besides the usual? Nope. Not a word."

"Damn."

Jake had not been the same since he returned from Jericho, and his friends were really starting to worry about him. On the outside, he was Jake: wisecracking, laid back, incredibly immature, charming Jake, but something wasn't right and Terry knew it. None of it seemed genuine to his character. Just the fact that he did not jump in excitement at the thought of going on an undercover mission to a pancake syrup factory was a cause for concern. And just now, when Terry had laid it into the pair, Jake hadn't said a single word. Something had happened when Jake was at Jericho, something else besides the beat downs, the solitary isolation, and general misery of being in the federal prison system. But the thing was, Jake wasn't telling them. He wasn't telling them anything about why he suddenly flinched away from them, about why he jumped when he heard loud noises or why suddenly he was acting so brittle.

Amy being absent made everything else worse, because Terry was sure that she would be the one that Jake would open up to. Unfortunately, she had been summoned home due to a family emergency and wouldn't be back until next week.

Just as Terry was wondering if he should pursue Jake—he did not miss the fact that Jake had torn out the room faster than when Scully saw a free pizza sign in the kitchen when he had seen the Jericho Warden with Holt—- or ask Boyle to follow him to make sure he didn't do anything else stupid the lights went out, plunging them into darkness and the sound of thirty iPhone emergency broadcast alert alarms rang out into the black room.

Terry pulled out his phone and read: EMERGENCY ALERT: A SWARM OF MURDER HORNETS HAS ENTERED THE REGION. BROOKLYN IS ON LOCKDOWN UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE.

Cool cool cool cool cool cool cool. Could this day get any worse?

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