A/N: Happy Cinco de Mayo, my friends! In honor of Hughy's favorite holiday, I bring you another mini story. Now, I'll say upfront that while the guys are mentioned and this deals with the world I have set up with the cast, 'Precinct' follows Hugh, a NYPD OC. He insisted that this step in the over-arching plotline was his to take, and I didn't deny him. So, enjoy?

P.S. - There's a running gag with every scene in this book. Kudos if you spot it. ;)

CHAPTER 01: ANXIETY

Hugh Reese glanced down to notice two things: one, his pistol was actually holstered at his right hip, and two, the arm that reached for it ended at a stub. 'The whole upside to losing my non-dominate hand was supposed to be that it isn't hard to forget its gone. How long will this damn ghost limb shit last?'

"Hugh!"

The African-American snapped back to reality with a jolt. The blinding sun left him disoriented, and he swayed forward, only to remember an iron railing kept him from falling off the retainer wall along Eastman Park. With a sigh, his senses settled until the cacophony of screams registered as gleeful children prancing through sprinklers and the hold on his forearm seemed less threatening.

"Hugh," Marina said again.

The detective faced his wife then patted her hand, just to confirm she was real. "You shouldn't sneak up on me, Rina."

The Latina made a face. "We've been standing here for the last five minutes.

'We? Oh, right.' Tobias flailed in the baby carrier strapped to his mother's busty chest, and he cooed as his father stroked his cheek. Unfortunately, the shaky movement made Marina frown rather than smile.

"You gotta relax," she added. "Next thing you know, you'll be jumping out of your skin every time a cat knocks over a trashcan."

"Been there. Done that. Dropped my taco. Poor taco."

"Don't turn this into a joke."

"But it was a Supreme Nacho Dream, limited time only."

"Maybe you should take up Wendell on his offer."

"I can't take a vacation."

"Why not?"

"It'd be pointless. I can't even chill here, in a damn park I see from my house every day."

"That's my point!" With a sigh, Rina absentmindedly ran her fingers through Tobi's afro, tan features glistening with sweat and worry.

Hugh saw beauty in how she cared and combed back several fly-a-ways from her messy bun. "It'd be worse if I took off, Rina. I feel better when I can watch the EPF's movements firsthand."

"Why? So they can find more ways to set you up?"

"That was Kyle. And so long as Doughnut values his promotion, he'll make sure the record stays that way. Besides, we can't afford to fall behind; if we slip-up just one time," Hugh's voice cracked, "Bishop will get me back. If that happens...I'll lose more than a hand."

Watching Rina's worry morph into indignation was a lot like watching a cat turn from playful to aggravated. "You wouldn't have been in that position in the first place had you just kept your head down for once."

The detective half-shrugged. "Can't help it; it's my nature. I need to stay in the loop."

"That 'loop' is the reason you walk on eggshells every day."

"It's a sacrifice I gotta make."

"You don't have to do anything."

"If I don't, who will? The Hamatos have few allies."

"The Phantoms are vigilantes. A cop shouldn't condone them."

"What cop in history hasn't tweaked the law in their favor? These guys don't expect any rewards or look for personal gain. Yet they help. Far as I'm concerned, they're less crooked than most cops I've dealt with lately."

"I'm scared, Hugh."

The man tensed from his receding hairline to his dress shoes, chilled despite the Summer heat. "Hey." He reached for his wife and the way she leaned into him, so pliable and insecure, left a lump in his throat.

"You already led a stressful life as a detective," she said into his damp, button-up shirt. "You've lost so much"—her fingertips brushed his lips where he had lost a canine then his bubbled arm stump—"and you could've lost more. Had Bishop gone through with his threat—"

"Stop." Hugh pushed his wife back with both arms then caught her brown gaze. "We talked about this. The Hamatos understood, too."

"He—"

"Won't touch you or Tobi. Or Kai. We'll all see to that." Rina disagreed; Hugh could tell in the way she crinkled her nose. "Look at it this way: nothing I do now will change that I'm on Bishop's shit-list. I'm sorry, but it's true."

"I hate seeing you give so much of yourself."

"I know."

"You can't even enjoy your day off with us."

"What?" The detective grinned as he pulled his family close to rub his nose into the crooks of their sweaty necks. "I enjoy every minute I spend with you guys. Almost as much as tacos."

The Latina hit his shoulder, which left it stinging. "Do you see Kaiya?"

"Uh." Sunrays blinded Hugh, although the eight-year-old's vibrant hair couldn't be missed. He pointed at an arched monkey-bar set beside the sprinklers, where Kai effortlessly swung around to the amazement of the other kids.

"She can't help showing-off, can she?" Rina asked.

"Least the playground's intact."

"I'm serious."

"So am I. She's been better with her control since Leonardo started training her."

"To become a ninja."

"Oh, don't be so sour. It's a good thing. She's seen less and less of Doctor Vigue, and with as much energy as she has, it needs to be channeled. Why not bottleneck it into something that can save her life somewhere down the road?"

Rina sighed, and Tobi protested the sudden restriction with a whine. "She has a hard life ahead of her, too." The Latina spoke lowly as if to hide her concern below the children's delight. "One of these days, she'll need to be pulled from school. When others notice she isn't aging."

"She ages," Hugh added sternly. "Just slower than others."

"And what will that do to her? Will it hinder her mental maturity? Will she wind up a twenty-five-year-old woman in a kid's body? Will the drug even out? Will she grow exponentially in a short time, become a teenager before she's even a preteen?"

"Those are questions Doctor Olson and our other brains are studying. Recro-12 has its secrets, though. Melody may've helped stabilize it, but she didn't create it. Otherwise, Splinter would've been cured long before they needed to break into Oswald."

"You should have at least some difficulty saying that."

"Why?"

"You're a cop."

"Hey, that misdemeanor was all hearsay. I never saw proof. Did you?"

Rina fought a laugh but caved when her husband wiggled his brows. "Idiot."

"You love me."

"Because it's too much work to train another man."

"Ouch!" Hugh chuckled, tickling below his son's chin. "After we drop Kai off, I have a dinner set-up."

"With who?" Judging by her flat tone, Rina knew she wasn't the guest of honor.

"Damien and Kenneth."

"Oh." The woman gave a wry smile. "They haven't been by for pancakes lately. They okay?"

"They've been a little skittish since enrolling in the Academy, but big brother Hugh has them under his wing."

"Yeah." Rina's smile died. "That won't stop Hun from gunning for their heads, though. What if he hires a hit-man?"

"Well, it's not out of the realm of possibilities. Still, it's barely been a year since his assault. Even a gangster will need more time than that before he decides to tempt suicide again."

"Why don't you guys have dinner at our place instead?"

"As much as I'd love that, we're meeting at the usual hidey-hole."

"Taco Joe's."

"The only one in Manhattan."

"You're turning me down for tacos."

"Special tacos." Hugh stuck his tongue out in play as his wife rolled her eyes, though when she looked back up, both understood location had nothing to do with his choice. "I won't be long," he said. "I'll be home in time to put Tobi down for the night."

"Promise? You know what a pain he is when you don't."

"That's because I'm his favorite. Right, Tobi?" The nine-month-old baby popped his father in the nose when the older man bent down for a kiss. It was meant with love, though, and Hugh smiled as he rubbed his face and straightened back up. "I'll text you when I get there and when I leave. But we still have a few hours. What do you say we get ice cream?"

"Only if I can have a double scoop."

"Your wish is my command. Come on, let's go bribe the monkey off the playground."

Damien and Kenneth cleaned up nice for a couple of young men who had run with the Purple Dragons not long ago. Ken kept his shaggy hair dyed green, but he had removed his facial piercings and regularly saw a dermatologist to look more presentable in uniform. Damien, meanwhile, seemed restricted out of street clothes and tugged at his unbuttoned collar as Hugh divvied out their orders at Taco Joe's.

"Would it kill ya to eat somewhere else?" Damien asked.

Hugh glanced across the booth, a taco end already crammed in his mouth. "Maybe," he said while chewing.

The younger African-American looked down at his plate then began to pick shredded cheese off his tacos to give to Ken. "I'm starting to regret ever calling you."

"Oh, stop the lies, Hanson." Hugh swallowed the savory meat and warmed nacho sauce. "You like not being under Hun anymore."

"I just traded one hell for another."

"The Academy isn't that bad."

"You only say that because you haven't gone there in, like, thirty years."

"Excuse me? Try—" The detective considered the math then blanched under Damien's smirk.

"Eighty-nine was a long time ago, Old Man."

Hugh pointed a long finger at the student, taco shell crunching. "Never bring that up again."

"Or what? You'll hit me with your walker?"

"I'll have you know I vigorously work out every taco I eat. I don't need a walker quiet yet."

"Yeah? What's your lap time?"

" I don't need to be subjected to this kind've—"

"It's over ten minutes, isn't it?"

The detective glowered and stuffed the remainder of his taco in his mouth just to have an excuse not to answer.

"Ha!" Damien slapped the booth table. " You do worse than Ken!"

"M—my time isn't th—that bad," Ken grumbled.

His friend sent him a dry look. "You may as well be a five-hundred-pound asthma patient, Miles."

"Leave him be," Hugh said. Though, admittedly, he was just guarding his honor through the green-haired cadet. "Anyone been harassing you kids on campus?"

"Don't insult us, Old Man."

"The Academy may be a few years behind me—"

"A few?"

"But I remember freshman life. Being an ex-gangbanger only complicates things."

"Those guys can do whatever they want; they got nothin' on PD Initiation." Damien trailed off with his focus fixed on his taco shells, which were now little more than meat and lettuce in an oversized shell.

Hugh took pity on the young men—in part because he didn't want to know what atrocities earned them spots under Hun—and picked up his second taco. "Has Samuel approached you at all?"

"Sa—Samuel?" Ken echoed.

"Samuel Renold. The Manhattan Property Office guy. You know," Hugh's voice lowered as he chewed, "the guy that saw me knock out Mahoney."

"Right, right." Damien waved a hand. "The dude that kept pointing out how hard it'll be for us to become cops."

"I talked to him about that."

"Which is why we haven't seen him as much, I guess. He still blackmailing you for lunches?"

"Don't be jealous."

"Oh, you have no idea." The ex-gangster laughed hollowly. "Ignorance is bliss."

"He isn't totally ignorant."

"Ignorant enough. He wasn't as lucky as the rest of us, being dragged into your little underground crusade."

"Nothing wrong with being up to speed."

"All I wanted was an out. I never asked to be a Phantom ally."

"Well, you are. So is Ken." Hugh glanced towards the silent cadet, who wrung his hands against his dress shirt. "And if not their ally then mine. There are so few, especially in the force, who we can rely on."

"We aren't really part of the force yet."

"It's enough."

"For?"

"Listen: with what happened with Kyle last year, I can't afford any more risks. There are four people I trust in my precinct. Then you two. That's it."

"Ken lives doped-up on Clozapine, and he's one of your go-to guys?"

"We don't choose what life hands us, we deal with it. I know it's hard, but I need you guys to stick with the Academy. I..." The detective sighed. "I need help."

"That's an understatement." With a snort, Damien leaned back against his booth bench, arms folded to where his rolled up sleeves revealed his PD brand. "Your a minnow hoping to over-power a shark."

"Nice imagery. They teach that in the Academy nowadays?"

"It's crazy."

"The alternative is we do nothing. You've already proven you can't do that, Damien."

The younger African-American groaned into his hands. He didn't look back up until Ken stole some food from his untouched plate. Hugh wondered when the green-haired cadet had finished his meal, and when the man glanced down, he saw that he was one taco shy. 'Little thief.'

"Two of those players you're talking about haven't even come back to work," added Damien.

"Well, Physical Therapy isn't something that happens overnight." Hugh caught his bitterness with an apologetic look; the cadets weren't at fault for his friends' trials. "Sorry."

"Me too," Damien grumbled. "I know McGinnis..."

"Donna postponed her reinstatement because she insisted on walking into Nineteenth with him."

"So his retirement's official?"

"It's been official, just not on paper until the last few months. Commissioner Powell gave him the decency of a chance, but the moment they handed over that Combat Cross I think we all knew the truth."

"It's amazing he lived at all. I saw the footage."

"You did?"

Hugh leaned forward, and Damien stared down at his plate, now empty. "It's part of the new curriculum. Being partnered with the EPF, we get inside details on a bunch of weird shit. At least basics. Cyborgs have become common knowledge, and Prowlers are like the new rats in the city. So we've been tasked with studying a lot of surveillance from the Twenty-Twelve Attack."

"Figures. How much bullshit are they shoving down your throats?"

"I tuned most of it out."

"Sure that's been great for your test scores."

"Stuff it. I pass."

"What about you, Ken?" Hugh's smile landed on Kenneth, who swallowed thickly.

"I—I—I'm fine," the Cadet answered, licking his sauce-stained fingers. "Um, I—I can be outside longer. I got to th—the shrink they want. It's...fine."

"Damien said you're still on Clozapine?"

Ken's green hair bobbed with his nod.

"Any idea how long that'll...?"

Damien caught Hugh's stare. "A while, probably. He's a spazz. But he gets weekly therapy sessions, and that guy seems to think he's improving, so."

"Stay on top of things," Hugh told Ken. "You'll make it."

Ken flashed an awkward smile, scared yet also thankful, but it fell when his attention turned upwards. Damien followed suit, dark skin contorted as he slid out of the booth. 'The hell?' Turning, Hugh came eye-to-hip with an athletic woman who kept Damien at arm's length, no matter how hard he tried to hug her.

"Jezebel?" he asked.

Jezebel struggled to keep control, and it strained her voice, "Hugh, I need help. I can't find Miriam."