Chapter 34: Heist Planning - Year Two
Thursday, November 22, 2018 - Mid-Wilshire Station, 9:17 AM
Captain Zoe Andersen's POV
The Halloween Heist video had gone viral. Two point three million views on YouTube. News stations requesting interviews. Other precincts calling to ask about replicating the format. City Council had sent a formal commendation.
And most importantly: recruitment applications were up forty-three percent.
Officer Mercer had accomplished more for community relations with one ridiculous scavenger hunt than our PR department had in three years.
I pulled up his file on my computer. Fifteen weeks into his rookie year. Exemplary performance. Multiple commendations. That conversation with Grey yesterday about his unusual instincts—Grey had shared the highlights.
Mercer was special. Maybe psychic, maybe just extraordinarily observant. Didn't matter. He used whatever edge he had to protect people and build community.
I picked up the phone. "Officer Mercer to my office."
Ethan's POV - Captain's Office, 9:23 AM
Second time in two days getting summoned to leadership offices. At least this time my danger sense stayed quiet.
"Officer Mercer. Sit."
I sat. Andersen's office was neat—commendations on the walls, family photos on her desk, a coffee mug that said "World's Okayest Captain" that Grey had obviously given her as a joke.
"The Halloween Heist," she said without preamble. "Two point three million views. City Council loves it. Mayor's office mentioned it in their community policing initiative. I'm getting calls from other precincts."
"That's... great?"
"It is great. It's phenomenal PR. But it's also pressure." She leaned forward. "Officer Mercer, you're doing it again next year. And it needs to be bigger."
"Yes, ma'am. I was already planning—"
"Bigger challenges. More teams. We're bringing in Fire and EMS, making it inter-departmental. Maybe judges from the community. And I want it livestreamed for fundraising."
My mind raced. "That's a lot more complex than last year."
"Which is why you're starting planning now. You've got eleven months." She pulled out a folder. "Budget proposals from the city. They're willing to match your donation if we make this an annual charity event. That's two million for the LAPD fund, Officer Mercer. From one day of organized chaos."
"The donation doesn't have to be matched. I can cover—"
"I know you can. But let them contribute. Shows community investment." She closed the folder. "Same donation amount from you?"
"One million to the fund, fifteen thousand to the winner. I'll cover increased prize money."
"Why fifteen?"
"Because Lucy complained ten wasn't enough motivation."
Andersen actually smiled. "Officer Chen would complain about winning the lottery. Alright. Fifteen thousand it is. You'll need a committee. Planning, logistics, safety protocols, filming—"
"I'll handle it. Already have people in mind."
"Good." She stood, extended her hand. "You surprised me, Mercer. When your aunt pushed for your placement here, I expected a problem. Rich kid playing cop. But you've exceeded every expectation. This heist, your field performance, the way you use your resources for good—your parents would be proud."
If only she knew the truth. That the parents she's referring to aren't really mine. That I'm living in borrowed skin with borrowed memories.
"Thank you, Captain. I'll make the second heist even better."
"I know you will. Dismissed."
Friday Evening - Ethan's Mansion, 7:47 PM
I'd called the planning committee: Lopez, Lucy, Jackson, and Nolan. Tim showed up too, claiming he wanted to "observe" but really he was competitive and couldn't resist.
Pizza boxes covered my dining room table. Laptops open, notebooks scattered, the whiteboard I'd bought specifically for this meeting.
"Okay," I started, marker in hand. "The Captain wants bigger. Inter-departmental. Livestreamed. Fire, EMS, and LAPD all competing."
"That's at least six teams," Lopez calculated. "Maybe more if we split departments into smaller groups."
"Eight teams," Lucy suggested. "Two from each department. Makes it competitive within and between departments."
Jackson pulled up spreadsheets on his laptop. "Budget? If we're livestreaming, we need equipment. Cameramen. Editing. That's expensive."
"I'll cover it. Same as last year—my parents' money should do something useful."
"Your parents' money is doing a lot of useful things," Lopez said. "The million-dollar donation funded new equipment for three divisions. Training upgrades. Family support programs. That matters, Mercer."
Nolan raised his hand like we were in school. "Challenges. We need new challenges. Can't repeat last year."
"Agreed. Last year was physical and mental. This year we add—" Lucy's eyes lit up. "Team skills. Things you can only do with coordination. Fire challenges for firefighters, medical scenarios for EMS, tactical for cops."
"But everyone does all challenges," Tim added. "Firefighters do tactical, cops do medical. Levels the playing field."
"Brilliant," Lopez said. "Forces people out of comfort zones. Tests adaptability."
We brainstormed for two hours. The whiteboard filled with ideas:
Year Two Halloween Heist - Working Title: "Judgment Day"
8 teams (2 LAPD, 2 Fire, 2 EMS, 2 mixed)Teams randomly assigned (no repeat winners from Year 1)6 challenges across LAEach challenge tests different skill: tactical, medical, physical, mental, coordination, wildcardLivestream with running commentary$15,000 prize + trophyEthan's $1 million donation + city's $1 million match = $2 million total for emergency services fund
"The wildcard challenge should be chaos," Lucy said. "Something nobody can prepare for."
"Like what?" Jackson asked.
"Like..." She tapped her pen against her teeth. "A challenge that changes based on what team arrives first. They pick the challenge for everyone else."
"Evil," I said. "I love it."
Tim had been mostly quiet, but now he spoke up. "You're using your money to build something that matters. Not buying respect. Building community."
Everyone looked at him. Tim rarely gave overt compliments.
"That's the difference between you and other rich kids who play cop," he continued. "Other rich kids want the badge for status. You want to actually help people. Use your resources to make things better."
"My parents' money," I corrected automatically. "I'm just the steward. Making sure it does what they'd want."
"They'd be proud," Tim said simply.
The room went quiet. Emotional moment Tim wasn't equipped to handle. He stood abruptly.
"I'm getting more pizza. Anyone want anything?"
"I'll help," Lopez said, recognizing Tim's escape.
After they left, Lucy leaned over. "That was the most feelings Bradford's expressed since his divorce. You've broken through the emotional walls."
"Is that good or bad?"
"Good. Means he trusts you. Actually trusts you, not just professionally." She returned to her laptop. "Now, about livestream logistics..."
Later - 10:34 PM
The committee had left. Nolan stayed behind to help clean up, like always.
"Next year's teams will be randomized," Lopez had said before leaving. "You might not get Tim and Lucy."
"Good," I'd replied. "I want to win without advantages."
"You say that now," Lucy had laughed.
Now it was just Nolan and me, loading pizza boxes into the trash.
"This is big," Nolan said. "Two million dollars. Eight teams. Livestream. You're creating an event, not just a game."
"It's worth it. Community relations, recruitment, morale—"
"And you get to play with money for a good cause," Nolan interrupted. "It's okay to enjoy it, Ethan. You don't have to justify using your resources for fun that also helps people."
"I'm not—"
"You are. You still feel guilty about having money while everyone else struggles. But you're using it right. The donation helps hundreds of families. The heist builds community. The party at your house gives the team a place to decompress. That's good use of resources."
I stacked plates in the dishwasher. "My parents—the original Ethan's parents—they believed wealth was responsibility. You don't hoard it. You use it to make things better."
"And you're honoring that. They'd be proud." Nolan closed the last pizza box. "Emma texted me, by the way."
"What?"
"We're friends on social media now. She sent me a message. Said to tell you she had a great time last night and you should stop overthinking whether you're good enough for her."
"She said that?"
"Paraphrasing. But yeah. She also said if you need someone to talk to about the Miguel case, she's available. Professional therapist recommendation."
My recall played Miguel's empty eyes, but also Emma's kiss on my patio.
"I'm okay. Better than I was."
"Good. Because you deserve to be happy, man. You've earned it."
After Nolan left, I reviewed the whiteboard. Year Two Halloween Heist plans. Eight teams. Complex challenges. Two million dollars for emergency services.
My phone buzzed. Emma: How was planning?
Ambitious. We're going big.
Of course you are. That's your style. Pause. Free tomorrow night?
Always free for you.
Good. My place. I'll cook. Fair warning: I'm terrible at cooking.
Then I'll bring backup food.
Smart man. See you at 7.
I took a photo of the whiteboard, sent it to the planning committee group chat: Year 2 foundation. Let's make it legendary.
Lopez responded immediately: Already competitive. I'm winning this year.
Lucy: You wish. Team Chen is taking the trophy.
Jackson: Bold of you both to assume anyone beats Team West.
Tim: You're all going to lose.
Nolan: I'm just happy to participate!
I smiled, locked my phone. Fifteen weeks ago I was terrified, alone, trying to prevent deaths while hiding impossible powers.
Now I had Emma. Team. Purpose. A ridiculous heist to plan. Armstrong still looming in the shadows, but manageable.
This life is becoming real. Not borrowed. Not performed. Mine.
I climbed the stairs to bed, my recall playing happy memories: Emma's laugh at dinner, the committee's brainstorming energy, Tim's rare compliment, Nolan's friendship.
Tomorrow: date night at Emma's place. Next week: continue the Armstrong investigation with Lopez. Eleven months: Halloween Heist Year Two.
I'm not just surviving anymore. I'm building something.
And that made every risk worth it.
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