Crime Hunter : Vice, Episode 1 : Shadow Chaser Part.1

Series : Crime Hunter : Vice 

Episode 1 : Shadow Chaser Part.1

Eastside, Los Angeles – Spring, 1987 

They disappeared without a sound, fifteen children vanished from neighborhood playgrounds. Different blocks. Different times. No ransom. No pattern. No clue. 

Then, just as suddenly, they came back. Dumped in alleyways, near fire stations, even at a church door. Alive, yes... but quiet. Withdrawn. Not the same. 

In the case briefing, a forensic doctor stated that all of the kids were sedated. Some minor physical injuries. And, they were kept somewhere. Long enough to break them a little. 

Captain Frank Novak (command briefing, tired and angry): “This wasn’t gang-related. Wasn’t random. Someone took these kids, held them, and brought them back clean. This smells like... production.” 

Detective Sgt. Lisa Tran-Nguyen (31, flat tone): “Production of what?” 

Sgt. George Molenski (29, impatient): “If it’s kiddie smut, I swear...” 

Ray Johnson (43, steady, ex-Marine): “Easy, George. We don’t have proof of anything. Yet.” 

It wasn’t just the crimes that disturbed them. It was the silence. 

The families said the same thing: “They won’t talk.” Even with mothers sobbing, hugging, begging... the kids wouldn’t say a word. 

Lisa still remembers, when she listened to the testimony of one of the children, the answer given showed how sadistic the perpetrator of this kidnapping and exploitation was. “There was... a red lamp. And the man said if I moved, the light would go out. And if the light went out... he’d hurt my sister.” 

Novak (in the squad room): “Alright. This is our backyard. And whatever this freak is filming, it’s being done close. We flush this bastard out. Quietly.” 

 

CHAPTER 1, SCENE 1 

11.15 AM, Tuesday. April 28, 1987  

The late morning sun cast long shadows across the alleyways of the Boyle Heights, East L.A—a predominantly Latino neighborhood where the sting of recent child abductions still lingered like a bruise. 

The children were back now, all fifteen of them, returned in scattered locations after a week in the dark. But they weren’t whole. 

Their eyes were glassy, their spirits cracked. Forensic and medical reports told a grim story—of trauma, of abuse, and of something far more sinister: cameras. 

The Vice Unit had no leads. No pattern. No demands. Just broken children and silent communities. That was until a boy named Diego muttered a name through sobs in his hospital bed. “Juan... Juan Lopez.” 

That gave them something. Juan Lopez was small-time—street-level hustler, mid-20s, with a rap sheet full of petty theft and narcotics. He had ties to local gangs but never anything like this. Still, it was a start. 

Detective Lisa Tran-Nguyen was chosen for the takedown. A 5-year Vice veteran, Lisa is adept at handling various problems in the field, intelligent and sharp in reading situations, but also not shy when it comes to using charm and persuasion to control the situation. 

Lisa approached the park where Lopez was known to loiter. She didn’t dress like a cop. Denim skirt, tank top, subtle lipstick—Her Asian features is very eye-catching in this Latino majority area. 

“Juan,” she said softly, slipping into his eyeline with a friendly smirk. He turned, eyes darting out of habit. “You lost, lady?” “Nah,” she replied. “My boss needs a local partner to help him find information about something. 

He stared at her for a beat. Suspicious. Curious. Then he grinned, “And you think I look like a lackey? 

Lisa smiled wryly, "You seem like a reliable person," she said, sucking on a lollipop. 

Juan Lopez narrowed his eyes as if scrutinizing Lisa, "Of course, but I'm professional, only if the price is right." He approached Lisa on a driver seat and stood right beside her, peering into the car. "You're not kidding, are you? Hmm, your car smells nice, and you look too clean for a street girl." 

"There are plenty of ways to be part of the business without being part of the street," Lisa sucked on her lollipop slowly. "How about it? If you're not interested, I'll find someone else who is," 

5 minutes later, Juan Lopez adjusted his seat back while whistling, his eyes repeatedly glancing at Lisa who was driving beside him. Lopez has agreed and is now taken by Lisa to meet his boss who will give him the job. 

Not long after, their car stopped in front of an Italian food restaurant. "Get in there, they are waiting at the table on the right," And as soon as Lopez entered, Johnson and Molenski were waiting for him, “Juan Lopez, you are under arrest..” 

Lopez tried to flee, but was immediately confronted by Lisa's revolver, which was waiting for him at the entrance. "Stop, or I'll blow your head off!" Molenski and Johnson immediately handcuffed him and took him to the office.  

 

CHAPTER 1, SCENE 2 

1.20 PM, Tuesday, April 28, 1987 

Interrogation Room, Vice Division, LAPD  

The room felt colder than the air conditioning warranted. Juan sat in silence for ten minutes, then twenty. When Lisa entered, he looked at her like she’d betrayed him. Maybe she had. 

He cracked faster than anyone expected. “I didn’t touch those kids,” he said. “I swear to God, I didn’t lay a hand on them.” Lisa sat down across from him, arms folded. “But you helped take them.” 

He nodded slowly. “I just lure 'em. That’s all. The real devil… that’s Humberto Garcia.” 

The name dropped like a weight in the room. Garcia was new to Vice, according to Lopez he always busy, moving shady goods, running carjackings, armed robberry — but never caught. Never even flagged. Thats why he’s name not in any database in LAPD. 

“He’s the one with the setup,” Juan continued. “Got a place near Vernon Street. He said some rich Asian guy paid big for it. Some sicko.” 

“You know the name?” Lopez shook his head. “Only heard him called ‘Mr.Boss.’ Never met him. Garcia deals with him direct.” 

Lisa leaned in. “You willing to help us get Garcia?” Lopez hesitated. His hands trembled. “You gonna protect me?” Lopez didn’t look up – just picked at the cuff of his sleeve, his voice small. 

“We can try,” Lisa said. “But you’re gonna have to help us find him first.” He sighed. 

“He’s usually home late afternoon when he’s not working on something. You’ll need me there, or he won’t open the door.” 

Lisa exchanged glances with the observation mirror. The wheels were turning now. She didn’t like what came next—but she knew what had to be done. 

She would go in, undercover. With Lopez. To get close enough to signal the team and bring Garcia down. 

She’d done worse. She’d seen worse. But this felt different. Dirtier. It would be dangerous. And if Garcia was connected to someone more powerful—as Juan claimed—they were only scratching the surface of something far uglier. 

Lisa left the room, her expression unreadable. Molenski caught up to her in the hallway. “You sure you’re okay going in?” Lisa nodded. “No. But I’m going anyway.”  

 

CHAPTER 1, SCENE 3 

3.45 PM, Tuesday, April 28, 1987 

Capt. Novak office, Vice Division, LAPD HQ.  

Cigarette smoke in the air, map of Garcia’s neighborhood pinned on the corkboard. Tape deck recording. Lopez is handcuffed to the metal chair, legs crossed. Lisa stands by the board, serious. 

Captain Novak lit a cigarette, eyes on the map. “Garcia’s a ghost. This might be our only shot to get a name or face connected to the operation,” 

He nodded toward Lopez, “you said he trusts you,” 

Lopez shrugged with a twitch of a smirk, “He will if I walk in like nothing happened. Tell him I got a new girl, hungry, discreet, no questions.” 

Molenski frowned, “And she just wants to hustle for him outta nowhere?” Lisa exhaled, “If I’m going in, I shouldn't wear the wire.” Her voice calm, but firm. 

Johnson’s sat forward, “What? He could show up, you could get isolated” Lisa held his gaze, “If Garcia's not there, I’ll be stuck inside. If the other guys in the house get twithcy and check me, the wire blows everything. But Lopez? He’s less likely to get frisked. He can carries it. I can adapt,” 

Novak looked at her a beat, then nodded, “She's right,” Lisa asked Lopez, “Who’s usually in the house? Anyone likely to panic? Do they know your old crew,” Lopez shrugs, “Maybe two or three of Garcia’s boys. Benny, Raul, maybe Sal. They don’t know all my girls. If you act like you’re used to this game, they’ll buy it. But yeah… you’ll need to stick close to me.” 

“We’ll need to look legit. Body language, maybe a little intimacy — just enough to sell the story.” Lisa's voice sounds very natural but measured. 

“You sure you’re okay with that?” Johnson said with a grimace. Lisa nods, “I’ve handled worse. This gives me cover. Garcia’s guys won’t touch what they think he’s already claimed.” 

“Lopez, you’re wired. Standard short-range mic in the belt. Any slip, any sign she’s in danger, you give us the signal.” Capt Novak lighting a cigarette. Lopez, “Got it.” 

Novak pointing at the map, “Units posted here and here. We won’t move unless you trigger it or we hear a name worth printing. Lisa — eyes open. You get even a whiff of bad air in there, stall until you can step out.” Lisa nods, “If Garcia shows up, I’ll play it close. But if he runs, we pull the plug.” 

Molenski replies quetly, “This is gonna get messy.” Lisa muttered, “it always does”  

 

CHAPTER 2, SCENE 1 

5.25 PM, Tuesday, April 28, 1987  

Late afternoon. The dark streets of East L.A. A beat-up sedan crawls toward Garcia’s house. 

Lisa in skimpy denim and leather, chewing gum, eyes hard and alert. Lopez behind the wheel, glancing at her with a nervous grin. 

The sedan cruised through the cracked roads of East Vernon, graffiti-stained buildings rolling by under a dreary 6 p.m. haze. 

Lisa Tran-Nguyen sat in the passenger seat, sunglasses on, eyes sharp beneath. Her outfit screamed street ; Denim jacket, leather miniskirt, ripped tee, dark red lips, skin glossed under the LA heat. She played the role of a hustler, Juan Lopez’s newest girl. 

Her body language matched the part ; loose, sultry, but with the wariness of someone who's learned to stay alive in places like this. 

Lopez drove in silence. The wire was taped under his belt. He was the one transmitting, safer that way, in case she got searched. 

Earlier that day, at the precinct, Lisa had laid it out clean, “If I’m not wired, I can stall. Talk my way around if anything goes south. If they start getting handsy, I’ll improvise,” she had told Johnson and Molenski. 

Johnson wasn’t happy. “Still think it’s a bad idea. I’d rather risk blowing it than send you in there without eyes.” 

Lisa had met his concern with calm detachment. “That’s why I’m going in as Lopez’s girl. It gives me cover and protection. But we need to know what kind of guys are in there. Juan?” Lopez had grunted, chewing on a toothpick. “Garcia’s crew? Three or four regulars. Sal’s the worst — ex-con, busted skulls in lock-up just for fun. If Garcia ain’t home, they’ll still try to size her up.” 

They knew the risks. Now, there was no turning back.  

 

CHAPTER 2, SCENE 2 

5.50 PM, Tuesday, April 28, 1987  

The house sat low on its foundation, with stained curtains and rusted screen doors. Inside, dim light flickered from a faulty lamp. A TV played static in the corner. 

Garcia wasn’t home. Instead, three of his crew slouched inside — Raul, skinny and twitchy; Benny, quiet but watchful; and Sal. 

Sal was trouble. “Yo, who’s the Chinese chick?” Sal asked, eyeing Lisa up and down like a hawk sizing up a rabbit. “My new girl, she’s a Nam not Chinese” Lopez said casually. “Name’s Candy.” Lisa gave a half-smile. “He said you needed more hands. I got those. And legs too.” The room erupted in sleazy chuckles. 

But Sal wasn’t laughing. “You know the rules,” he said. “Nobody steps in without a frisk.” Lopez stood up. “Ain’t necessary. She’s clean.” Sal stepped forward, already lifting his shirt to reveal the grip of a tucked-in pistol. “You don’t speak for me.” 

The room tensed. Lisa could feel Lopez tightening beside her. 

Ray Johnson’s voice crackled low in the van one block away. “This guy Sal’s escalating. Move the team closer. One block perimeter.” 

Captain Novak hissed in his mic. “Hold your f***ing ground, Johnson. We don’t blow the setup—” “She’s about to get patted by a goddamn gorilla with a rap sheet. We’re moving,” Johnson said coldly. 

Back inside, Lisa raised her hands slowly. “Let him frisk me. It’s fine,” locking eyes with Lopez. Sal smirked, stepping forward. His hands were rough and invasive. Lisa didn’t flinch — just let her eyes go distant. Let him believe she was scared but not enough to bolt. 

 Then, gunshots crackled outside! Everything shifted in a split second. Lisa moved before Sal even turned. In one smooth move, Lisa caught his arm, twisted it with a judo lock, sent him crashing into the cracked tile floor! 

She lunged for her purse, yanked out her service pistol, and pistol-whipped Sal clean in the temple! He dropped, limp. 

Raul reached for something in his coat — Lisa trained her pistol on him. “Move and I drop you.” They froze. 

Seconds later, Molenski and Johnson kicked the door in, badges raised. 

The takedown was clean — because Lisa had already done the dirty work. 

 

CHAPTER 2, SCENE 3 

6.15 PM, Tuesday, April 28, 1987  

Out in the yard, Garcia’s van sat abandoned, driver-side door flung open. He had bolted the second he saw plainclothes agents moving down the street — Johnson’s call had spooked him. 

He escaped through a chain of backyards and broken fences. 

The neighborhood was a maze. Garcia knew every shortcut. 

Later, in the mobile command van, tension boiled over. “You blew the sting,” Novak barked at Johnson. “I told you to stay at two blocks.” 

“She was about to get assaulted by a guy with a record longer than your arm,” Johnson snapped. “I won’t gamble with my people.” 

Lisa, leaning against the van wall, still catching her breath, said quietly, “I’d make the same call, Captain.” Novak stared at her for a moment. Then turned away. No congratulations. No thanks. Only the weight of Garcia slipping through their fingers. 

 

CHAPTER 3, SCENE 1 

7.35 PM, Tuesday, April 28, 1987 

The Vice squad’s bullpen was quieter than usual. A thin haze of tension hung in the air—leftovers from the Garcia sting gone sideways. 

The incident was still fresh: a blown approach, a sudden shootout, and a suspect slipping through their fingers. 

Captain Novak stood with arms folded in front of the incident board, the back of his neck flushed red from anger or stress—or both. “We’re not done,” he said firmly. “Garcia is still out there. But we’ve got one angle left—Lopez.” 

Ray Johnson shifted uncomfortably beside Lisa. She could feel the judgment thick in the room. Johnson had moved the surveillance team too close. 

His call might’ve saved her life, but it had also spooked Garcia. 

Novak pointed at the mugshot of Juan Lopez. “Garcia doesn’t know Lopez was inside when the shooting started. As far as he’s concerned, it could’ve been about the other three. All of them have priors—robbery, carjacking, assault. The heat could’ve been meant for any one of them.” 

“So we send Lopez back in?” Lisa asked, already anticipating the answer. 

Novak gave a curt nod. “He’s the only link we’ve got. But he doesn’t move without our eyes on him. Not again. Lisa, i want you to continue the cover, keep close to Lopez, Molenski you’ll be their shadow,” 

Novak looked each of them in the eye, “No more surprises. We finish this,” 

 

CHAPTER 3, SCENE 2 

8 PM, Tuesday, April 28, 1987 

Interrogation Room, Vice Division, LAPD 

Juan Lopez slouched in the metal chair, arms folded, lips tight. He’d been in enough precincts to know the routine: wear the tough guy mask, act like you’ve got options, wait for your lawyer. 

Lisa stepped in alone, her heels clicking softly against the tile. She didn’t come in hot. No threats, no files slammed on the table. She brought coffee. “You know,” she said softly, setting the cup down, “you don’t strike me as stupid.” 

Lopez narrowed his eyes. “That supposed to be flattery?” “It’s supposed to be a lifeline,” she replied. She sat across from him, calm and patient. “Child kidnapping is already bad enough, added with active involvement in Child Pornography could be the end of you, but choose the right choice to help us,” 

She shrugged off her jacket slowly, drapping it on the back of her chair. The thin black tank top underneath clung to her toned shoulders, just a standard Vice attire, but intimate in the closed space. 

He scoffed. “Yeah? Felt more like a setup” Lisa leaned in, voice lowering. “It wasn’t a setup, Lopez. The fact we’re still offering you a way out? That means we still care. But if you lawyer up, if you act difficult—then we stop being careful. Then the DA would be happy to have the child kidnapper and pornographer accomplice being handed over to them,” 

His jaw clenched, but she saw the flicker of fear. She softened her tone again, like slipping on warm gloves. “If you choose to play along with our plan, you may go out with a lot less time behind bars. Help us bring Garcia in.. You don’t—and that kidnapping charge alone is going to feel like a steel coffin.” 

He studied her, uncertain. Lisa’s gaze held his. Persuasive. Steady. “You help me, and I help you.” 

Juan sighed. His fingers tapped the table. One beat. Two , “And if i say yes, I walk?” 

 “You walk into danger – but with us watching your back,” Lisa said flatly. 

 

CHAPTER 3, SCENE 3 

8.45 PM, Tuesday, April 28, 1987 

That Evening – Outside the Precinct Lisa was quiet when she stepped into her husband’s unmarked sedan. 

The heat of the day still clung to the air, and a faint echo of sirens could be heard in the distance. 

Detective Sgt. Vinh Nguyen looked over from the driver’s seat. “He flipped?” She nodded. “Took some pressure. But yeah. He’s going back out.” 

Vinh didn’t say anything for a few seconds. He started driving, calm and controlled, one hand lightly gripping the wheel. His eyes were always gentle, but sharp—like a man who saw more than he let on. “I heard you were still inside when it went loud,” he said quietly. 

Lisa looked at him, her voice softer than before. “I was being frisked when the gunfire started. I have to let it slide..that guy named Sal had a gun on Lopez, our cooperating suspect. It got close.” 

Vinh gave a slow exhale. “But you handled it.” She smiled faintly. “I did. Took him down. Got the others before backup came in.” 

 He reached for her hand at a stoplight, his fingers wrapping around hers with quiet reassurance. “You’re damn good at what you do,” he said. “Even if sometimes I want to kick in a door and drag you out of there myself.” 

Lisa leaned her head briefly against his shoulder, just long enough to feel grounded again. “You trust me?” she asked. Vinh didn’t even blink. “Always. You see the pieces I miss.” 

They rode in silence for a bit. Comfortable. Together. Lisa thought about the street, the lies she wore like clothing, the fake intimacy, the real danger. 

Then she looked at the man beside her—the quiet strength, the still water that never ran dry. This was her anchor. And tomorrow, she’d dive right back into the storm. 

 

CHAPTER 3, SCENE 4 

9.30 PM, Tuesday, April 28, 1987 

Back at the precinct, the building had gone quiet. The soft hum of old ventilation ducts and the occasional rustle of paper were the only reminders of life still awake inside. 

Captain Frank Novak stood alone in his office, bathed in the muted glow of the city outside his window. After a long pause, he reached over and switched off the desk lamp. The room fell into shadows. 

He stepped out and walked the corridor slowly, passing the empty desks—until he stopped in front of one still lit. Detective Sgt. Ray Johnson was still there, hunched over paperwork, his brow furrowed in focus. 

Novak stood there for a second, then tapped the edge of Johnson’s desk gently with his knuckle. “Ray,” he said, voice low but steady. Johnson looked up, surprised. “Captain.” Novak exhaled, folding his arms. “I shouldn't have put it all on you. That bust going sideways—it wasn’t just your call. I was out of line. Especially in front of the team.” 

Johnson nodded slowly. “I should’ve looped you in before moving the surveillance closer. That was on me.” Novak shook his head. “We all make judgment calls. But if Lisa’s gonna keep doing this kind of work, we need to trust she can handle herself. She’s earned that.” 

Johnson gave a short nod, then looked down at the mess of forms on his desk. 

Novak gave him a pat on the shoulder before walking off into the dark corridor, the soft echo of his footsteps fading behind him. 

Johnson leaned back in his chair, straring at the quiet phone for a long moment. He rubbed his temples, sighed, then picked up the receiver. 

 

CHAPTER 3, SCENE 5 

9.45 PM, Tuesday, April 28, 1987 

Across town, at a modest single-story home, dimly lit by bedside lamps, Lisa was in the warmth of her bedroom. Beads of sweat lined her brow, her back arched slightly as she straddled her husband. 

Vinh lay beneath her, feeling the familiar heat inside her. Breath syncing with hers in rhythm and pace, his strong hands gently resting on her hips, guiding her but letting her lead. 

The quiet was broken by the sudden shrill of the landline phone beside the bed. Lisa let out a soft chuckle, pausing only for a breath. Vinh groaned, murmuring with closed eyes, “Just let it ring…” She leaned forward, brushing a kiss against his lips. “Don’t worry, honey. I can multitask.” 

Still rolling her hips in steady, practiced motion, Lisa reached for the phone and answered casually, her voice barely revealing the activity beneath it. “Lisa here.” 

“Hey. It’s Ray,” came Johnson’s voice, rough and tired. There was a pause. “Look… I just wanted to say I’m sorry. For everything. I was over-protective, and we lost Garcia because of it. You put yourself out there, and I screwed the timing.” 

Lisa’s voice stayed soft, breath lightly hitching between words, “It’s alright, Ray. Honestly. Things like that..mmh,,happen in the field. But it means a lot knowing you’ve got..mmh..my back. Always.” 

There was a pause on the other end. Then Johnson’s voice shifted, quieter, “Lisa… are you… in the middle of something?” 

 Lisa smiled mischievously and tilted her head toward her husband. Vinh had closed his eyes again, his expression a mix of amusement and desire. 

She bit her lower lip and whispered into the phone, “Just a little something. But don’t worry, I’m not missing a beat.” 

Johnson cleared his throat awkwardly. “Right. Okay. I’ll let you go. Goodnight, Lisa.” 

“Night, Ray,” she said, then placed the phone back into its cradle. 

She looked down at her husband, still beneath her, patient and smiling. “See?” she teased, sliding her fingers over his chest. “You didn’t miss a thing.” Vinh exhaled . “You’re dangerous, you know that?” 

Lisa grinned, her hands brushed her hair that fell on her temples, swept it behind her head, then with both hands locked behind her head, Lisa increased her pacing, never miss a beat. 

 

CHAPTER 4, SCENE 1 

3.30 PM, Wednesday, April 29, 1987 

L.A afternoon air pressed heavy on the street as Humberto Garcia stepped into a battered phone booth beside a liquor store. Neon flickered above him, painting sickly blues and reds on the scratched glass panels. 

He pulled the door shut, glancing over his shoulder twice before dropping a few coins into the slot. His fingers trembled slightly as he dialed. The line clicked. Static. Then a voice. “You’re not supposed to use this number anymore.” Garcia exhaled. “Mr. Boss, listen, I had no choice. The cops hit my place, kicked the damn door in. But it wasn’t about us. One of my dumbass boys pulled a robbery, that’s what brought ‘em. They don’t know anything.” Silence. Garcia pressed on. “We’re still good. I can handle the next delivery. I swear. You can count on me.” 

On the other end, the voice remained smooth, indifferent. “I already know about the raid.” Garcia’s gut twisted. “But that’s your mess to clean up,” the voice continued. “Now listen, I’ll still use you. But I need to see you in person to talk about the next job.” 

Garcia blinked. “Yeah, of course, yeah. Just tell me where.” A pause. “The old spot. Where you dropped the last package.” Then the line went dead. 

He hung up, exhaled, and smiled crookedly. “Still in the game,” he told himself, “Still trusted,” 

He pushed out of the booth and merged with the crowd, eyes scanning every shadow. 

 

CHAPTER 4, SCENE 2 

3.35 PM, Wednesday, April 29, 1987 

Half a city away, in a private office somewhere above a seafood restaurant in Chinatown, the man called “Mr. Boss” placed the receiver down with a click that sounded final. 

Early fifties, but built like a retired martial arts instructor who still trained out of habit, this mysterious man leaned back in his chair and lit a cigarette. Smoke curled upward, framed by the dull yellow light of a desk lamp—his face remained cloaked in shadow. 

Three goon-looking dudes wearing leather jackets stood across from him, sharp silhouettes against the glass door. No smiles. No words. 

The man exhaled smoke, then pointed the cigarette like a general directing artillery. “That wetback’s a fucking liability now. Police already got his scent. Whether the raid related to my stuff or not—doesn’t matter.” 

He stood, the ash from his cigarette falling on a rug worth more than a small car. “I want him gone. Tomorrow. Quiet, clean. I don’t want his body floating. I don’t want his name on the news. Understand?” All three nodded. 

“Good. I've arranged for him to come, so you guys just wait there, pick him up and finish him off. 

 

CHAPTER 4, SCENE 3 

5.10 PM, Wednesday, April 29, 1987 

The barrio was humming with its usual rhythm—salsa from a corner speaker, the snap of dominoes on plastic tables, the scent of grilled meat and sweat baking under the sun. Juan Lopez leaned against a lamppost, smoking a joint with casual detachment while chatting with Dario, a wiry twelve-year-old shoe-shiner. 

Then the payphone on the corner rang. Dario blinked, wiped his nose, and jogged over. “¡Juan! Es para ti!” he called, holding out the receiver like it was cursed. 

Lopez’s brow furrowed. He flicked the joint and walked over, locking eyes with Lisa and Molenski standing across the street. 

Lisa—still in character as his hustler—looked the part effortlessly, leaning on a hydrant in short denim and red lipstick, sunglasses hiding her eyes. Molenski gave a single nod from behind a newspaper. Lopez took the call. 

A minute later, he hung up and turned back toward the street. “Garcia’s still taking orders. He’s got a meeting with Mr.Boss. Told me to come along. Gave me the spot.” 

Molenski swore under his breath. “We’re heading back. Gear up, prep the van, full backup. This might be it. He peeled off toward his unmarked sedan. 

Lopez didn’t move right away. Instead, he slung an arm around Lisa’s waist with practiced ease and started walking in the opposite direction. “Y’know,” he said, voice low, teasing. “I think I’m startin’ to like this. Workin’ with the cops. You ain’t so bad to look at either.” 

Lisa gave a short, amused snort. “Hey, just like I said, you scratch my back, I scratch yours. Enjoy it while it lasts, Romeo. But if you slip even one inch, and I’ll be the one putting cuffs on you. And I don’t mean the fun kind.” 

Lopez laughed. “Damn. You talk dirty better than my ex.” “Good,” she said without looking at him. “I’m not your ex. I’m the one standing between you and a cage.” 

They disappeared into the crowd, playing their roles like professionals. Because tomorrow, everything could go sideways. 

 

CHAPTER 4, SCENE 4 

5.15 PM, Wednesday, April 29, 1987 

They had just reached Lisa’s beat-up unmarked sedan when a figure emerged from the shadows near the corner bodega. “Lopez,” the voice called low and sharp. 

Lisa instinctively reached for her bag, fingers grazing sidearm, but Lopez raised a hand subtly to calm her. “Garcia,” Lopez said, feigning surprise as he turned. “Damn, man. What the hell—where’ve you been?” 

Garcia approached, glancing around with paranoia in his eyes, his shoulders hunched beneath a faded hoodie. He didn’t even acknowledge Lisa yet. “I been nearby for hours,” Garcia muttered. “Couldn’t come out. Saw the heat rolling up on my place. I think they were lookin’ for Raul. He’s been runnin’ his mouth about that pawn shop gig.” 

Lopez gave a nonchalant shrug, masking his tension. “Raul always been sloppy.” Garcia’s gaze flicked briefly toward Lisa. “Who’s this?” “My girl,” Lopez replied quickly, sliding his arm around her waist like it was second nature. “She’s been rollin’ with me the past few weeks. Hustles a bit on the side. Figured maybe if you got work—” 

Garcia’s face darkened. “No. Don’t bring her into this. Not tonight.” 

Lisa didn’t flinch. She put on her best practiced smirk, street smooth, just enough attitude to sell it, not enough to threaten. “Hey, I’m not asking for much. Just a place to crash and maybe tag along if something comes up.” 

Lopez kept his expression casual but glanced at her from the corner of his eye, registering the risk. Garcia shook his head. “I don’t want no new faces. Not with what happened the last two days. Shit's hot.” 

“I get it,” Lisa said calmly. “But I stay with him tonight, or I’m out there alone.” A long pause. Garcia chewed his lip, clearly torn between suspicion and the exhaustion of being hunted. 

Garcia stared at her, eyes unreadable. For a second, Lisa thought he might bolt. Then he grunted, “Fine. We go to your place, Lopez. No talkin’ business. And she stays quiet.” Lopez nodding, “Always.” 

They moved off down the street towards Lisa’s beat-up unmarked sedan, no one spoke. The silence was safer. 

 

CHAPTER 5, SCENE 1 

5.45 PM, Wednesday, April 29, 1987 

Lopez’s place turned out to be a cramped second-floor unit in a run-down townhouse block in West Adams, South Los Angeles. Rust flaked from the stair railings, and the hallway smelled faintly of stale soup and damp concrete. 

His aunt greeted them at the door, a petite woman in a floral apron and curlers, surprised but welcoming. “Juan! You didn’t tell me you’re bringin’ friends,” she said in Spanish. 

Lopez kissed her cheek. “Tía, this is my girl Linda. She’s stayin’ the night.” The aunt gave Lisa a warm smile and a gentle pat on the cheek. “He never brings girls. Especially a beautiful Asian lady like you, you must be very special, he must be very lucky.” 

Lisa smiled and let herself be led inside. Lopez’s unit was just next door to his aunt’s, both tucked into the same creaky second floor hallway. 

His unit was barely lit, furniture old and mismatched. One bedroom. One couch. Garcia immediately slouched into the armchair, scanning his phone, still jittery. 

Lisa set her bag down quietly, her mind already running through contingencies. She would need to make contact—carefully, quietly. 

She couldn’t risk Garcia bolting or sensing anything off. And she couldn’t leave Lopez alone with him either. So she asked Lopez to accompany her downstairs to buy dinner. 

Garcia was apparently too tired to question it. 

 

CHAPTER 5, SCENE 2 

6.10 PM, Wednesday, April 29, 1987 

Back at the Vice office, Johnson was pacing near the windows, his tie loosened and sleeves rolled to the elbow. The clock was ticking toward dusk. 

Molenski leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “They took different routes after the meet. Maybe they’re still en route.” 

Johnson grunted. “Lopez maybe small-time, but he’s slippery. And Lisa’s in too deep,” 

“You think she’s compromised?” Molenski's tone getting serious. 

“I think she’s improvising,” Johnson muttered. “And that scares the hell outta me.” 

The door to Novak’s office creaked open. “Come in,” the captain called. They both entered. 

Novak’s brow was furrowed. He tapped a manila file on his desk. “I've checked the address of their meeting tomorrow, the building belongs to Bobby Chun,” 

“The name Bobby Chun bugged me. Sounded familiar. Pulled some files from three years ago.” He slid them across the desk. Photos. A property listing. Mugshots. 

“That’s Jimmy Wu,” Johnson said, frowning as he picked one up. “Bardem and Park work on that case few years ago, they chased that bastard for months. L.A. Triad fixer. Ran a child trafficking ring and some of the nastiest child porn ever filmed.” 

“Right,” Novak said. “Interpol’s had a red notice out for him since he disappeared into Hong Kong. But guess whose places he was using for filming back then?” “Bobby Chun.” “Rented it to Wu under the guise of a ‘photo studio.’ No direct links, no charges. Chinatown community defended him—said he was clean.” 

Johnson leaned on the desk. “A journalist from the L.A Vice Magazine, connected the dots with Capt. Lances squad .Without him, we’d never have figured out what kind of films were made in that warehouse.” 

“It was Raymond Wong, he’s an investigative journalist” Novak, reading the old file. 

“Doesn’t matter now,” Molenski said. “Until we can use Garcia through Lopez to get Chun or this Mr. Boss, it’s all circumstantial.” 

Just then, Novak’s desk phone rang. He grabbed the receiver. “Novak.” A moment passed. Then he straightened, covering the mic. “It’s Lisa. She’s calling from a payphone.” Johnson’s eyes snapped to attention. 

Novak listened, nodding slowly, his voice quiet. “She’s in Lopez apartment with Garcia. She stepped out to buy cigarettes just to make this call. Couldn’t call from inside. Garcia’s there.” 

Molenski swore under his breath. Capt Novak raise his hand to calm him down, “Says she had no choice, blowing the op wasn’t an option. She says she’s calm. Says she can handle it.” Novak’s voice tightened. “Goddamn it.” 

For a moment, no one said a word. Just the low hum of the overhead fan. 

Then Novak’s expression changed. He looked at Johnson, “She wants backup nearby, just in case. I told her we’ll send two—she’ll come down to get wired as soon as they’re in position.” 

Johnson grabbed his jacket without waiting for permission. “Okay You’re on babysitting duty tonight,” Novak said quietly. Johnson nodded once. “I’ll be outside.”

 

CHAPTER 5, SCENE 3 

6.45 PM, Wednesday, April 29, 1987 

The burger stand sat under a flickering neon sign just across the street from Juan Lopez’s apartment. The open flame hissed under a greasy grill, and the scent of charred meat and fried onions curled through the night air. 

Lisa leaned against the side counter, chewing slowly, eyes fixed absently on the blinking windows of the apartment above. Garcia was in there, waiting. But they needed an excuse to step out, and greasy dinner was as good as any. 

Lopez stood beside her, his paper tray balanced on one palm, mouth full of fries. “You always eat this slow?” he asked with a grin, nudging her side with his elbow. “I savor it,” Lisa said coolly, eyes still scanning the building. “Also stalling. Garcia’s not going anywhere.” Lopez chuckled. 

“You think he’ll raid the fridge while we’re gone?” 

“I think he’s the kind of man who counts other people’s beers.” 

Their banter hung easy in the air, but tension simmered beneath. Lisa glanced at him, reading him again. She had already made it clear—he stays close to her, always, and she would never leave him alone with Garcia. It wasn’t just about control. It was safety. For the operation. For him. For herself. 

Lopez chewed on that understanding, both the fries and the agreement, then looked at her with a sly smirk. “You know, if this whole mess didn’t happen, I’d probably still flirt with you the same way.” 

Lisa raised an eyebrow, unamused. “Still?” “I mean, you’re easy to look at. And sharp. It’s a dangerous mix.” She let the line hang without a smile, but her voice didn’t harden. “Trying to feel me out, or just bored?” “Maybe both,” Lopez admitted. “Just wondering how much of this act is for Garcia and how much is for us.” 

Lisa looked away, brushing a stray lock behind her ear. “Let’s keep it professional. I’m not here for that.” Juan shrugged, finishing his burger. “Doesn’t hurt to ask.” What she didn’t say—what she never volunteered—was the truth about her real life. 

The ring stayed hidden, like everything else outside this assignment. Her husband, her daughter… that world didn’t belong here. And Lopez didn’t need to know it. 

She pivoted, voice firm, “Garcia. You said he helped you out before. What kind of help?” Lopez leaned against the railing, licking mustard from his thumb. “Couple years ago, I got in deep with some bad people. Gambling. Dumb choices. I didn’t have the money to get clear. Garcia stepped in. Not with cash—but with a job.” 

Lisa tilted her head. “A robbery.” Lopez nodded. “Low-risk, inside gig. Scared me straight for a while. Since then, I owed him. So when he showed up saying he needed someone to drive and keep quiet for this kidnapping job… I didn’t know the full deal. He said the kids were leverage. Said they’d all get released after the debt was settled.” 

“And you believed that?” Lisa asked, her tone unreadable. She didn’t know whether to admire the gullibility of pity it. Either way, it was leverage. “I wanted to. I needed to. Now…” he looked over at her, “Now I just want to make this right. Help you. And if sticking close to you is part of that—well, maybe I don’t hate it.” 

Lisa met his eyes coolly. “You wanna prove it? Follow my lead. No improv, no street heroics. You do what I say, when I say it. Or that jail cell’s still on the table.” 

 Lopez raised his hands, mock surrender. “I’m yours for the night.” 

“Not like that,” Lisa muttered, though her lips twitched. 

Just then, a familiar brown Buick slid up to the curb. Johnson stepped out, his shoulders hunched against the night wind, a paper bag tucked under his arm. He crossed quickly. “You’re late,” Lisa said. “I’m careful,” Johnson replied, handing her the bag. “Recorder’s in here. Power it on once you’re back inside. You don’t need to strap it—there’s a sewn lining in your purse.” 

 Lopez reached for another fry. Johnson glanced at him with mild contempt. “And you,” he said. “Don’t get any stupid ideas. You so much as breathe wrong tonight, I’ll be on your ass so fast your mama’ll feel it.” Juan gave a short laugh. “Yes, sir.” 

 Lisa opened the bag, double-checked the device, then looked up at Johnson. “Apartment’s second floor, rear unit. Narrow hallway. Garcia’s on the couch. Juan and I’ll stay in his room. Everything’s under control.” 

“Still don’t like it,” Johnson muttered. “You sure about this?” 

“I’ll keep the device close,” Lisa said, eyes firm. “And if I need to, I’ll cuff him to the bed.” Lopez raised both brows. “Kinky.” 

Lisa ignored him. Johnson exhaled and looked at her hard. “Be safe, Red.” “I always am.” 

 

CHAPTER 5, SCENE 4 

7.05 PM, Wednesday, April 29, 1987 

They crossed the street back to the apartment, shadows stretching under streetlamps. 

As they crossed the dimly lit corridor toward Lopez’s apartment, the door to the unit next door creaked open. 

A warm voice called out in Spanish-accented English. A short, plump woman with salt-and-pepper hair and a warm face peeked out, a tray in her hands. “Juanito,” she called “I saw the lights on,” she said, smiling kindly at Lisa. “I made té de hierbas. Good for the nerves. One for you—” she nodded at Lisa, “—one for Juanito, and this one—” for your friend, He looked pale. Like someone’s chasing his soul.” 

Lopez took the tray from her hands. “Gracias, Tía. That’s real kind of you.” Lisa watched as Juan walked over and gave the woman a kiss on the cheek. “Gracias, Tía. You’re too good to us.” 

The woman turned her eyes on Lisa and smiled warmly. “You’re pretty,” she said in thick-accented English. “You two make a good couple.” 

Before Lisa could respond, Lopez chuckled and, without hesitation, slipped his arm around her shoulder. He pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her cheek. Lisa kept her smile on—smooth and easy—but her elbow found his ribs with a sharp bump. Not enough to offend the aunt. Just enough to remind Lopez he wasn’t fully in charge of this show. 

The aunt giggled. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone. Enjoy the drinks. It’s good for sleeping.” 

 She turned and vanished inside. Lisa took her cup, sipping it slowly. It tastes foreign, but grounded her in the moment. Something real in a night built on lies. But it warmed her throat. 

She glanced at Lopez beside her—his fake grin fading into something quieter. Something unsure. As they stepped inside Lopez’s unit, the familiar, stale warmth of the room greeted them again. Garcia was on the couch, bundled under a thin blanket, eyes fluttering open. 

Lisa handed him his cup. “Your medicine. Courtesy of your neighbor.” Garcia blinked, then reached for the drink silently. Lopez locked the door behind them, and Lisa’s fingers brushed her purse briefly, a silent confirmation the wire was still there. 

 It was going to be a long night. And if Garcia suspected anything, it might also be her last. 

 

CHAPTER 6, SCENE 1 

8.50 PM, Wednesday, April 29, 1987 

Miles away across the city ..... The clock ticks softly in the background as Detective Sgt. Vinh Nguyen finishes his dinner alone. 

He sets the fork down, wipes his mouth, and begins clearing the plate when the landline rings. 

Vinh walks over and picks it up, “Hello?” A familiar voice of his wife answers, calm and direct. “Hey, it’s me,” 

He relaxes immediately, leaning against the wall, “Working late again?” 

“Yeah. Babysitting duty. Escort and supervise. Witness protection”, Lisa (Voice on the phone) 

Vinh nods slowly. No details, no need for any, “He or she?” “uhmm Classified”, Lisa’s voice teasing from the other side They both chuckle lightly, already used to this dance. 

Two detectives, married and wired for the job. There were rules, but also trust. Always trust. “How’s Kimmy?” Vinh answer : “Sleeping. Out like a rock. Mai’s reading some Vietnamese folktale to her earlier. Worked like a charm,” 

Lisa (Voice on the phone) : “Tell her I’ll call in the morning if I can. You too—try not to dig into your cold case files tonight,” 

Vinh : “No promises” A pause, filled with unspoken affection. Vinh : “Stay safe my dear” Lisa (Voice on the phone) : “Always. You too” They hang up. 

Vinh stares at the silent phone for a second, then sighs. He turns the kitchen light off and heads upstairs. 

 

CHAPTER 6, SCENE 2 

9.05 PM, Wednesday, April 29, 1987 

Back to Juan Lopez apartmen.. The lights are dim. A soft by dynamoc Latino Guitar instrumental track plays from an old cassette deck, giving the room an amber glow. 

Lisa sets her phone down. Lopez emerges from the bathroom, bare-chested, towel around his neck, hair damp. 

 On the couch, Garcia is deep asleep, blanket kicked off slightly, snoring. 

At the small table, Lisa and Lopez sit facing each other. A deck of UNO cards is spread out between them. 

They sip the lukewarm herbal tea left by Lopez’s aunt. 

Lopez (quietly) “Do you always get the undercover assignments? You know—up close with people like us?” 

Lisa doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, she raises her finger and puts it in front of his lips gently, her eyes glancing toward Garcia. “Sssh...He might hear you.” Lopez grinning, “Nah… My Tía’s tea could knock out a horse. He won’t wake till mañana,” 

Lisa sets down her cup and leans back slightly, “ Undercover work’s part of the routine in Vice—especially for female officers. Sounds exciting, but it’s mostly… boring,” 

 Lopez mocking curiosity, “So are you bored now?” Lisa gives him a look; cool, unoffended, calm, “ Boredom’s not the point. I didn’t choose to stay with you for excitement. It’s the job. I go where I’m needed.” Her tone is gentle, almost like a teacher explaining a concept, not combative, not defensive. 

She holds eye contact. Lopez watches her, grinning. He leans back, flipping a card, “You always answer like that?” 

Lisa doesn’t respond, just draws a wild card and changes the color. But something in her smile is softer now. She shifts slightly in her seat. A faint flush on her cheeks. She touches her collarbone, brushing away invisible dust. There’s something in that tea. Her limbs feel a little lighter, her skin almost humming. Her senses feel sharper… or looser. 

Lopez leans forward as the music shifts to a smoother, bachata rhythm. “Hey… this is my favorite. Come on—dance with me. At least that won’t be boring,” Lisa (sighs, half-smiling), “Whatever…” He pulls her gently up. 

The cards scatter as they stand. They begin to dance, close, tight, and fluent. 

Lopez is surprised when Lisa keeps up step for step. Then he’s stunned when she leads him into a turn, rolls her hips in rhythm, and smiles confidently. 

Lisa “I was Latin Dance Champion in the LAPD inter-division tournament. Two years straight.” Lopez. surprised “No jodas…!” They laugh. 

The first song passes. Then a second. The movements grow smoother, tighter. Sweat forms on their temples. Their bodies brush more often, arms, thighs, chest, waist. Lisa twirls, rolls, dips… and returns to his frame with ease. 

On the third song, they are dancing like seasoned partners, heat rising, steps blending, eyes locked. The dips grow deeper. The contact closer. Lopez’s palm slides against her back, his breath warm near her ear. 

Their faces meet inches apart. On the final dip, Lisa is tilted back, eyes half-closed. Lopez leans in… and kisses her on the lips. 

Lisa’s eyes close. Not resisting. Not questioning. Just present, caught in rhythm and whatever floated in that tea. 

 

CHAPTER 6, SCENE 3 

9.45 PM, Wednesday, April 29, 1987 

A few miles away, Detective Sgt. Vinh Nguyen lies in bed, one side of the mattress untouched. Lisa's side. It’s not a rare occurrence, sometimes it’s her side that stays empty, other times his. It’s the rhythm of life when you're married to the job. 

But tonight he couldn’t sleep. He shifted on his back, stared at the ceiling, the fan casting lazy shadows like spinning clock hands. Time dragged. He closed his eyes and saw her – from just last night. The city lights flickering past the windshields as they drove home. 

The silent way she slipped off her heels. Her back to him, then her hand finding his. And later, their bodies moving together in unspoken rhythm. 

She was on top. Sweat glistening on her brow. Her hips grinding into him like silencing the world was a matter of rhythm. Her eyes half-lidded. Her breath caught. She didn’t miss a beat... 

 

CHAPTER 6, SCENE 4 

9.50 PM, Wednesday, April 29, 1987 

At the same time, inside Juan Lopez apartment... Detective Sgt. Lisa Tran-Nguyen closed her eyes.. her brow pinched together, beads of sweat trailing along her temple. 

Her teeth caught her bottom lip as she held back a moan. Her hips grinded slowly, steady,.. never missing a beat. Just like last night.. but this night everything around her was unfamiliar. 

The walls, the bed, the air itself. The hand gripping her waist, unfamiliar 

The voice breathing beneath her, unfamiliar. 

The length filling her, stretching her folds, unfamiliar. 

But her body moves anyway, intimately. The same way it did last night with her husband. 

But this... this was something else. 

From the living room outside, soft Bachata music still drifted under the door. Slow, sensual, pulsing. The same rhythm guided her now, but this wasn’t dancing anymore. Not in any innocent sense. This was intimate, hotter, realer. 

She tried to think about Vinh. 

The warmth of his hands, the curve of his shoulder, his smell.. 

But what filled her now was raw and unfiltered. 

It made her feel exposed. 

Vulnerable .. and yet powerful. 

Ashamed...and yet thrillingly alive. 

She didn’t stop, couldn’t stop. 

Her hips moved with purpose, matching the beat outside, not missing it once. 

 

CHAPTER 6, SCENE 5 

10.18 PM, Wednesday, April 29, 1987 

Just across the street, Detective Johnson slouches in the front seat of the surveillance car, earbuds in place, expression frozen in unease. 

It’s been twenty minutes. Twenty minutes of nothing but bachata on the line — no dialogue, no movement, just the soft romantic rhythm. 

And then… A faint creak. A rhythmic one. Then another. A subtle escalation of breathing, timed… precisely… with the beat. 

His jaw tightens. He doesn’t need confirmation. They’re not dancing anymore. But somehow, the rhythm is still being followed. Every move… still in time. 

Beside him, the tech officer glances over, eyebrow raised in a silent question. Johnson doesn’t answer. Just gives him the “You don’t want to know.” Look. 

And then… A male voice, breathless: “Oh Lisa… you really…” 

And hers, hushed, cracked between restraint and something else: “Sss..shut up..owh..huuhh…shhhiiiiit..” 

Johnson yanks the earphones out, cursing under his breath. He throws the door open, steps into the humid night air, and lights a cigarette with trembling hands, doesn’t look back at the car. 

Doesn’t want to listen anymore. 

 

CHAPTER 6, SCENE 6 

10.20 PM, Wednesday, April 29, 1987 

Inside the apartment, Lopez’s elderly aunt wipes her weathered hands clean as she finishes tidying up her traditional herb preparation set. 

Among the scattered stems and leaves, a small woven pouch marked with handwritten script sits empty. “Damiana” - A relaxing herb but also a known aphrodisiac. Fragrant, sharp, used in teas and tonics. 

A traditional aphrodisiac, long known in folk medicine to ease nerves and… awaken other senses. She hums softly to herself, pleased. 

She believes Lisa is Juan’s new sweetheart, and in her eyes, there’s no better blessing than a night filled with connection. She smiles, innocent and proud, believing she’s helped the couple feel closer tonight. 

 

CHAPTER 7, SCENE 1 

6.15 AM, Thursday, April 30, 1987 

Early Morning, Inside Johnson’s Car The first rays of sun crept over the concrete skyline as Lisa slipped quietly out of Lopez’s apartment. Her clothes were wrinkled, her skin still carried the scent of clove and sweat. Her body remembered more than she wanted it to. 

Behind her, Lopez was still fast asleep in the bedroom, tangled in sheets that still held traces of last night. On the sofa, Garcia snored loudly, oblivious to the thin line of tension running through the apartment. 

Lisa closed the door without a sound and descended the stairs to the curb where a gray, nondescript car waited. 

She didn’t knock. She opened the rear door and slid into the back seat. Detective Johnson didn’t turn around. He sat motionless in the driver’s seat, eyes forward, jaw clenched. The tech officer—his younger partner—was outside, stretching his legs with a cigarette by the alley. 

Lisa exhaled, then leaned forward, voice low. “I'm sorry... about last night. I know you heard it.” Silence hung in the car like fog. Johnson’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel, knuckles pale. Lisa continued, quieter now. “His aunt thought we were lovers. She served that tea... I didn’t know it was spiked. Aphrodisiac herbs. I only realized after.” 

Finally, Johnson exhaled. The tension in his shoulders eased, if only slightly. He still didn’t look at her. “Well, we’re in Vice,” he said, voice gruff. “You think that’s the worst I’ve seen? I’ve had girls forced to strip with guns on their heads, had to listen to wire feed while a rookie screamed from a backroom. 

What you did—it’s not pretty, but its not rare either.” Lisa sat back, eyes low. “Still... it shouldn’t have happened like that.” He nodded once, still looking forward. “I appreciate you being honest. That counts. Just... be careful. This job... the lines blur fast. You spend enough time inside the skin of someone else, it’s hard to remember who you were before.” 

Lisa didn’t answer immediately. She fidgets with her sleeve, looks out the window for a beat, then, she met his eyes in the rearview mirror. “Or maybe... you end up finding a new self.” 

Johnson gave her a long look. For the first time that morning, the edge in his face softened, “Just don’t lose the one who gives a damn. That’s the one we need out there.” 

 

CHAPTER 7, SCENE 2 

6.40 AM, Thursday, April 30, 1987 

Back to the apartment, Garcia was already awake when Lisa returned. He looked like hell—his hair wild, dark bags under his eyes—but he was sipping coffee and scribbling notes onto a cigarette carton. 

“Meeting’s at eleven,” he said without looking up. “But we should roll out early. Those people, Mr. Boss’s people, they’re clockwork. You’re late once, and you never hear from them again.” 

Lisa walked past him and poured herself water. The smell of old sweat and stale smoke made her stomach tighten. Garcia looked up now, flashing a grin that turned her stomach. “Easy job, y’know. Just pick the kids up, No questions. Drop ‘em off. In and out. You’ll get used to it. Big money for a simple gig. Better than bagging groceries or boosting cars.” 

Lisa stared at him, silent. Her fingers gripped the glass harder than she realized. The cheap glass creaked faintly in her hand, like it might crack.. then she quickly loosens her hand. 

Behind her eyes, something smoldered. It wasn’t rage, it was something colder, more precise. He doesn’t even flinch saying it out loud. 

She forced herself to smile, controlled and professional, “Let’s not be late then.” 

 

CHAPTER 7, SCENE 3 

7.30 AM, Thursday, April 30, 1987 

Inside Lopez’s bedroom, Lisa stood in front of the mirror, buttoning her shirt slowly. 

The reflection staring back at her looked calm, focused—but she could still feel the phantom echo of last night’s heat, like an ember smoldering deep inside her. 

The bedroom door creaked. Lopez stood there in a rumpled T-shirt and jeans, eyes avoiding hers, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. 

“I...uhm...I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “About last night. I didn’t plan,..my aunt,..she just,...” Lisa raised a hand gently to stop him. Her voice was composed, even warm, “I know. It was the tea. I figured it out too late.” 

She tucked her shirt in, then turned to face him,“Let’s just agree it never happened. No blame on you or your aunt. Just... wrong place, wrong time.” Lopez nodded quickly, clearly relieved, but also disappointed. 

Lisa caught it in the flicker of his eyes. “That said... for what it’s worth... you were okay,” she said, her tone softening for a brief moment. “I enjoyed it. Just... don’t read too much into it.” She slung her jacket over her shoulder, “It was a one-time thing, Lopez. Let’s not make it more complicated.” Lopez gave a small nod, then backed away from the door. 

Lisa sighed, her hands shaking. She had just mustered all her mental strength to say all that. 

Determined not to show him her vulnerability to keep in control of the situation. Inside, she hated how real it felt, how it meant more to her than it should have. But she had no space for those feelings now. 

She realized she would have to deal with the consequences later on. It took a while before her eyes were steady again—cool, focused, detached. She still ini her undercover role and she must be ready to play her part. 

 

CHAPTER 8, SCENE 1 

7,45 AM, Thursday, April 30, 1987 

In front of Juan Lopez Apartment Garcia jingles the car keys with a smug smile. "I’ll drive. I know the fastest way. You want us early, right?" Lisa eyes him, but doesn’t argue. She tosses him the keys. 

Johnson’s brown Buick waiting down the block, engine idling. Garcia slid in, fired up the engine, and peeled away without waiting. 

A few blocks out, his eyes shift to the rearview mirror, "That red sedan… been there since 5th Street,” Lisa felt something was strange, because she had been glancing back every now and then, and that red sedan behind them had actually just emerged from the last junction while Johnson’s brown old Buick trailing further back, almost a block away. 

So it’s either Garcia was jumpy..or lying. Lisa she decided to play along, "Yeah… I see them." Suddenly, Garcia makes a hard left turn, tires screeching, then veers sharply into a narrow alley. Lopez's head hit the car window, "Hey! What the hell...!" 

"Can’t take chances. If it’s the cops, we lose 'em now." Garcia argued. 

 

CHAPTER 8, SCENE 2 

7.55 AM, Thursday, April 30, 1987 

Johnson reacts to the abrupt detour. He grabs the radio mic. "Control, this is Victor-23, we've got a detour. Suspect Garcia may have spotted a tail. I lost visual on Lisa’s sedan—need eyes, stat. Plate number: Delta-Bravo-Zero-Five-Seven." 

The tech officer, "Audio feed’s cutting out, Either interference or they’re out of range,” Johnson curse "Shit. They’re going dark!” He swerves left, scanning for signs, but the streets are quiet. Johnson contacted the dispatcher again, requesting that all available nearby units conduct a visual search only, or if there were other technical units in the area, to conduct instrument tracking. 

Johnson reminded them that they were currently undercover, so sirens were not to be used, and that patrol units should maintain their distance. 

 

CHAPTER 8, SCENE 3 

8.00 AM, Thursday, April 30, 1987 

Inside Lisa’s car, Garcia seemed to calm down now. He no longer panic and speeding. Garcia said "I'm sorry, but we can't risk getting tailed by the police." 

When Lopes said it didn't look like they were headed to Chinatown, Garcia replied calmly, "Oh, don't worry, we're going there, but I need to stop by to pick up a van, a friend lent it to me." 

Garcia reminded him that this job required a van. He had to borrow one from his friend because his van was confiscated by the police during a raid on his house a few days ago. 

They followed the railroad into the Arts District. Garcia turned onto a quiet street, past abandoned garages with rusted shutters and broken windows. Until suddenly he turn the wheel hard to the right, making the car skeed into a partially opened garage. 

And before the engine is turned off, two armed men step forward, one at Lisa’s side, one at Lopez’s. Pistols up. "Out. Both of you! Now!" Lisa freezes. The barrel is inches from her cheek, while Lopez curses, thrown off balance. Lopez scream "Garcia! What the f...? What is this?" 

Garcia steps out, calm as ice, "Can’t have loose ends, bro. They’re sniffing around too close." 

Lisa is yanked out roughly. Garcia talk to Lisa (almost gently), "I told you not to come. You should’ve listened." Then he turns to Lopez, "And you? You dragged her in. I warned you. This ain’t personal." Lopez cursed "You son of a—!!" 

Garcia ignores him and give order to the two armed men, "Make it clean. No trace, no mess. I’ve got business to do." Garcia tosses off the keys, hops on a waiting motorbike parked near a tool rack. 

He revs the engine once, smirking like it was just another errand, and vanished through the shutter, leaving Lisa and Lopez surrounded, outgunned, and led deeper into the garage. 

CHAPTER 8, SCENE 4 

8.05 AM, Thursday, April 30, 1987 

Meanwhile, at one of the Chinatown’s back alley... Detective George Molenski’s unmarked sedan is parked one block away from the designated meeting point, a nondescript, boarded-up three-story ex-wholesale store with a back loading bay. Molenski adjusts his earpiece and sips lukewarm coffee when a voice crackles on the radio. 

Capt. Novak (On the radio), “Molenski, update — Johnson lost visual on Lisa's car. Last seen heading westbound on Seacrest with Lopez and Garcia inside,” 

Molenski, “Damn. You think it’s Garcia being careful or a change of plan?” Capt. Novak (On the radio), “Let’s hope it’s the former. But we’re not taking chances. That back-alley loading bay? Garcia claimed it was his delivery route for the kids. I want that place locked down,” 

Molenski nods, already watching as Vice personnel quietly move into position, disguised as phone repairmen, garbage crew, and idle workers, while the heavily armed Hit Team wait inside their unmarked vans further away from the building. 

Capt. Novak (On the radio), “Isolate that whole damn block. If the meeting happens. I want a clean sweep. No runners,” 

 

CHAPTER 8, SCENE 5 

8.10 AM, Thursday, April 30, 1987 

At the garage, Juan Lopez and Lisa are on their knees, hands raised. The two truck driver–looking thugs, Sam and Dom, stand over them with drawn pistols. 

Lisa keeps her voice steady. “Listen, you don’t want to do this. Talk to me. Killing two people? That’s not something you can just walk away, you will leave evidence everywhere,” 

Lopez squints at the two men, “Wait… I know you guys. You used to run transfers for Garcia in San Jose. We met last year at his place,” The he points at the guy name Sam, “You drove the L.A. route, right? You’re not killers. C’mon, what’s Garcia paying you?” 

Sam hesitates, eyes flicking toward Dom. Dom shout at him, “Shut up. Sam, bind their hands,” Sam kneels behind Lopez with a zip tie. 

But when he touches Lopez’s wrist, Lopez “Don’t!” He jerks his arm free. Sam tries again, Lopez swats him off harder. Tension spikes. 

Dom steps in, gun close to Lopez’s face. Dom (angrily), “Try that again, I’ll paint this floor with your brains!” But Lopez loses it, grabbing Dom’s wrist, the pistol goes off, BANG!, bullet whizzes past his head. 

Lopez tackles Dom, driving them both to the ground. Sam raises his gun...BANG! Lopez takes the hit in the back, slumping forward. 

Lisa reacts fast — whips her Smith & Wesson model 36 revolver from behind her back and fires - BANG! Sam screams, shot in the thigh, dropping to his knees. 

Lisa rolls hard to the side, taking cover behind her car as bullets snap past her. Sam screaming, “Dom! I’m hit! Kill that bitch!” Dom opens fire at Lisa’s position. 

She returns two wild suppressive shots covering her moves to change position, sprinting to a cluttered small office and slamming the door behind her. Inside, Lisa shoves a filing cabinet against the door. 

Bullets punch through the cheap wooden panels, she ducks behind the steel desk, breathing hard. She reloads, glancing back at a small high-set window. Her only escape route. 

Outside, Sam is bleeding badly, cursing. Dom reloads. Dom, “We gotta finish her! She saw our faces!” 

Lisa was trapped inside that small office room for several minutes. All the while, bullets whizzing past her head as they penetrated the wooden door. 

Suddenly, there was a sound like a door being broken down followed by a voice from outside “Police! Drop your weapons!” BANG! - Dom fires reflexively towards the sound but was immediately met with several shots in quick succession that sounded like they were coming from more then on gun. 

The roar of the gunfire only lasted a few seconds and was immediately followed by silence. 

A moment later Lisa heard a woman's voice “Lisa! You alright? It’s safe now!” Lisa opens the door slowly. Standing there, the cute red-haired but nerdy-looking Detective Sgt. Janice Hanson in her trademark large bookish glasses and her rookie partner, the tall and lean Detective Sgt. Seymore “babyface” Kuntz. 

Janice, “You okay, sis?” Lisa gave a shaky nod, her breath still shallow, “Better now...” 

“Kid and I were on surveillance nearby, working on Big Show Al case when he heard Johnson report your tail went cold — we widened the frequency scan and my genius rookie here picked up your distress in time,” said Janice while pinching Seymoure's cheek affectionally. 

“Only two months into Vice and already saving asses,” Lisa gives a nod, finally lowering her weapon. She didn’t realize how cold her hands were until she finally let go of the gun. 

Then her attention was drawn to Lopez who was lying face down motionless. 

 "Juan, hang in there, the ambulance is coming soon," she said while trying to provide first aid with the help of Seymour and Janice. But Juan Lopez seemed to be unconscious even though occasionally you could hear meaningless mumbling coming out of his mouth.

Within minutes, paramedics rush in. Lopez is unconscious but still alive although his pulse is fading. Sam is barely hanging on, and Dom is zipped into a black body bag, dead at the scene. 

 

CHAPTER 9, SCENE 1 

8.20 AM, Thursday, April 30, 1987 

Back to Chinatown... Ray Johnson pulled up to the curb and parked directly behind Molenski’s sedan. Two officers from the Hit Team, a tactical assault unit, were waiting for him with the latest developments. 

Team leader Sergeant Marty Castillo, 40, an ex-Army Ranger, always expressionless with a hawk-like gaze, was accompanied by his second-in-command, Officer Briene Kersey, 36, tall and athletic woman, with a short, side-parted Afro. 

Briene was the first to greet him and opened with news that heightened the tension. "Chief, the assets haven't arrived yet, but they already mapping the potential threat. Five people from Green Dragon are likely carrying concealed weapons. Their leader, Kang, was suspected of being involved in the China Beach club execution case two years ago. There may be another person inside, but it's unclear." 

Castillo added, "There are three guests, Caucasian, biker-style, but arriving in a white van. They’re likely hardcore muscle. One’s been ID’d Karl Stormberg. He’s high in the Viking Lowrider gang. His rap sheet includes weapons trafficking, armed robbery and attempted homicide. Expect semi-auto weapons, maybe an Uzi. Worst case? AK-47,” 

"Good, that means there's going to be a great fireworks display," Johnson grinned. "Castillo, you'll start your approach from here, side by side along the sidewalk behind the row of parked cars, until you reach the payphone. Get ready, wait for my "Go." 

Molenski added,"I've also prepared a blocking vehicle. We won't give them access to escape by vehicle." 

A moment later, a beat-up sedan still riddled with bullet hole from the garage firefight pulled over, followed by a blue unmarked car rolled up behind them. 

Lisa Tran-Nguyen, Janice Hanson and her rookie partner, Seymour Kuntz, stepped out. As they joined with Johnson and molenski at the sidewalk, Lisa launched straight into the situation. “Garcia led us into a trap. Took us to a garage to ‘pick up a van,’ then had two guys pull guns on us. Said he couldn’t risk any loose ends. Lopez took a hit—he’s in surgery. It’s bad Chief.” Lisa’s knuckles were scuffed and a faint streak of dried blood traced down her sleeve – but her voice stayed even as she gave the update. 

Molenski’s face darkened. Before he could reply, Janice chimed in. Janice Hanson: “We were first on the scene. Got there just in time to back her up.” She gave Lisa a nod, brushing her red bangs back under her thick, librarian-style glasses. 

Molenski (half-smirking): “Didn’t expect to see you in the field, Hanson. I thought you only came out at Vice parties—y'know, the ones with the boxers and bikinis.” Janice (grinning): “Even rarer to see you show up at one. Maybe Lisa can drag you to the next.” Lisa gave a faint smile, but the moment was cut short as Johnson’s radio crackled to life. 

Apparently one of the Vice surveillance personel reported that Garcia has arrived. “Target just entered the building. Arrived on a motorcycle. Four suspected gang members posted outside—possibly as lookouts.” 

Johnson’s demeanor shifted instantly. He grabbed his radio and gave the command. Johnson’s voice calm but firm, “Hit team, move slowly to final staging position. You’re on foot from here, keep out of sight. If those sentries catch on, this whole op goes sideways.” 

Everyone tensed. The team’s van was still a block away. One misstep during this final approach, and the suspects, including Garcia, could bolt. Worse, a firefight could erupt in this crowded district. 

 

CHAPTER 9, SCENE 2 

8.35 AM, Thursday, April 30, 1987 

Inside the abandoned store building, Humberto Garcia walked with swagger. With Lopez out of the picture and Vice chasing shadows, he felt untouchable. 

His new recruits, Don and Sam from San Jose, were lined up to replace the old team. Things were about to get cleaner, tighter. More lucrative. 

He stepped into the dimly lit loading bay and spotted a white van parked near the back. Three goon-looking white guys, all wearing biker jacket stood between him and the interior, clearly not “Mr. Boss” usual local Green Dragon crew. 

Garcia hesitated, “Yo, I’ve got an appointment. I’m Mr.Boss’s regular guy, you know that,” The biggest guy with a beard tapped him on the shoulder. “Yeah. We’re your welcoming committee.” 

Suddenly..”WHAM”..a knee slammed into Garcia’s gut. Before he could recover, another knee to the jaw. 

Garcia remained upright just long enough to be caught by the other two men. They gagged him, slapped on a blindfold, yanked his hands behind his back, and tossed him into the van like trash. 

He never made it to Mr.Boss. 

In the shadows, Kang, one of the senior member of Green Dragon gang stepped out and handed an envelope to the big guy with the beard. 

Kang: “Hey Karl, Boss says clean work only.” The big dude called Karl quickly counting the case: “Tell him not to worry. This guy’ll vanish like smoke.” 

 

CHAPTER 9, SCENE 3 

8.37 AM, Thursday, April 30, 1987 

Suddenly Johnson’s voice crackled over the radio : "Hit team, move out. Stop that van—now!" 

Two unmarked interceptors screeched into the alley, blocking the van’s escape route from two direction. 

At the same time, the van’s engine roared. It lurched into reverse, barreling backward toward the street. 

Officers scattered as it slammed into one of the intercept cars with bone jarring force. 

With all escape routes blocked and the van practically surrounded by police, Karl Stormberg took a bold step. "Break through there," he said, pointing to the glass door of a tire shop right next to the building being raided by police. 

With a single thump on the accelerator, the van creaked forward and smashed through the chain-locked glass door in front of the closed tire shop. 

The four Green Dragon lookouts broke cover, firing wildly as they sprinted for the building. Two were gunned down mid-sprint. The other two made it inside, vanishing into the maze of shelves and crates. They were trapped there because the main entrance area, the other side of the building facing the main road had also been blocked and surrounded by uniformed police with their patrol cars. 

The former wholesale store building occupies a fairly large area of land, starting from access to the loading dock which is located in the back alley while the entrance is on the other side, directly facing the main road. 

Johnson radioed Castillo, " The Vice team will rush the Green Dragon inside the building, you focus on Stormberg and his gang!,” “Roger that!”, Castillo’s voice crackled on the radio. He patted Kersey on the shoulder. "Bree, our focus is on neutralizing Stormberg and his gang. No one can escape our isolation." 

Then he ordered one of his team armed with a Colt AR-15, "You,... provide suppressive fire to cover the vice team entering the building." 

 

CHAPTER 9, SCENE 4 

8.38 AM, Thursday, April 30, 1987 

Detective George Molenski, Lisa Tran-Nguyen backed by Janice Hanson, Seymoure Kuntz, sprinted into the loading bay under a hail of cover fire from the Hit Team. 

They ducked behind crates, quickly assessing the chaos and devising a plan. Janice and Seymour would sweep the ground floor, while Molenski and Lisa would head upstairs, where one gang member - possibly Kang, their leader, was believed to be holed up. 

The whizzing of bullets and gunshots echoes as Molenski and Lisa climbed ascended the staircase to the 2nd floor, ducking low. Two gang members hiding on the other end of the ground floor apparently saw Molenski and Lisa's silhouettes as they climbed the open staircase and attempted to shoot. 

However, this action only revealed their position. Seymour approached Janice, who was hiding behind an old freezer. "Ma'am, they're behind the counters at the very end," he whispered while pointing his finger to the direction. Seymour then continued, "I'll move quickly up the stairs to draw their fire. To get a shooting angle, they'll have to come out from behind the counters and you’ll have clear line of shot" Janice tilted her head, peering toward the position Seymour had mentioned, then nodded in agreement, "wait..." She grabbed Seymour's arm as he hurried toward the stairs. "Be careful, kid." 

Seymour nodded, hurrying toward the stairs, deliberately making his footsteps loud. Janice took aim, waiting for her target to emerge from hiding. As expected, as Seymour climbed the stairs, another gunshot rang out, followed by the sound of the banister and the wall shattering. 

But this time, there was also a return shot. Just a single shot, Bang! followed by the sound of a glass display shattering under the weight of a body struck by a bullet. 

Seymour peeked down from the second floor to check on Janice. In his heart Seymour was amazed, Janice took down the target from a distance of almost 30 meters with one shot of the revolver. His senior nodded with a slight smile. 

Seymour gestured with his finger, reminding her that there was still one more hiding behind the counter. Janice nodded again, adjusted her glasses, and then slowly advanced through the now-empty display aisle. 

At the same time, fierce gunfire erupted on the second floor. Seymour instinctively searched for the source of the sound, but logic told him to stay with Janice to make sure all the threats on the ground floor were neutralized before dealing with the second floor. 

 

CHAPTER 9, SCENE 5 

8.42 AM, Thursday, April 30, 1987 

Meanwhile, in the alley, the situation escalated quickly and violently. With half of their van inside the shop, Stormberg and his crew were able to safely get out of the bullet-riddled van and taking defensive position around the tire ship lobby area. 

So when Castillo and his team, trying to rush into their position inside the tire shop, they were stopped by a barrage of semi-automatic gunfire from Uzis and Shotguns from Stormberg and his crew. 

Two officers were shot and had to be dragged out of the deadly line of fire in front of the tire shop. One was shot in the arm, another was hit in the bulletproof vest but still collapsed and was briefly unconscious. 

"Call an ambulance!" Briene Kersey shouted as she dragged her unconscious colleague across the alley. Sgt. Castillo ordered three of his team members, each carrying a Colt CAR-15 assault rifle, to take up firing positions from behind parked cars accross the street. 

The concentrated fire had a devastating effect, and one of Stormberg's men collapsed, covered in blood. "Jack, hang in there, brother. We can get through this. Keep shooting!" Stormberg tried to encourage his comrade. 

The gangster, named Jack, lay on his back, able to move only one arm, but he continued to fire back, though his hand trembled with each pull of the trigger. 

"Karl Stormberg!, I'm Sergeant Johnson from the Vice Division, LAPD! You're surrounded. Surrender and we'll finish this without any more casualties," Sgt. Ray Johnson's voice was calm but firm. 

Karl bit his lower lip for a moment, deep in thought, his breathing heavy, adrenaline pumping. "Hey, Nick, bring that bastard here!" Nick, Stormberg's partner who had been driving the van, jumped into the van through the half-open sliding door. 

A moment later, curses were heard from inside the van, "Damn, this bastard's dead! I think he was hit by a stray bullet." "Oh shit!" Stromberg was furious and slammed a trash can. His plan to use Garcia as a hostage had failed. 

"Karl Stormberg! Do you hear me? Let's solve this problem without any more victims!" This time, Johnson's megaphone volume was even louder. "Fuck you!! Come in here if you dare!" Stormberg's voice was hoarse and defiant. 

A moment later, smoke appeared in the tire shop lobby. 

"Fire?" shouted a Hit Team member. "Call the fire department!" 

Johnson immediately took precautions. In his head, he began calculating the consequences of all this commotion, casualties, and damage if no evidence or intelligence was found to advance the investigation. 

 

CHAPTER 9, SCENE 6 

8.45 AM, Thursday, April 30, 1987 

Back inside the building, on the second floor, Molenski engaged in a gunfight with a Green Dragon member. 

He initially thought it was Kang, one of the most feared figures in Chinatown. But it turned out not to be. However, that didn't make him less dangerous, as this man repeatedly tried to trick him to launch a sneak atack from behind. 

This cat-and-mouse game continues, and it becomes more and more dangerous. Molenski silently hopes to get help from Janice and Seymour soon. 

On the ground floor, Janice and Seymour slowly but surely approached the cashier where the Green Dragon gang was hiding. 

"Hey, I know you're behind the cashier, let's finish this now, out with hands behind your head!" Janice's voice was loud and authoritative. 

The last of the Green Dragon lookouts was trapped beside the cashier. The body of his friend, who had been shot by Janice, lay beside him, shards of glass from the display table scattered around him. His friend was dying, began to make choking sounds and mumbling. He began to panic, his fighting spirit gone. 

He wanted to run away, but he was afraid of ending up like his friend. As he tried to peek around one side, Bang! A bullet fired from Seymour gun almost hit him in the head. But when he tried to peek around the other side, Suddenly the barrel of a gun was pressed against his forehead, "Where are you going?" Janice asked with a grin. 

He immediately throws his gun and raised his hands. 

 

CHAPTER 9, SCENE 7 

8.47 AM, Thursday, April 30, 1987 

Back to the alley.. Johnson surveyed the tire shop, its lobby still covered in smoke. 

Panic began to well up in his mind: the department would be flooded with protests and even lawsuits, with significant collateral damage. 

Suddenly, an officer handed him a pair of binoculars. "Look, sir, in front of the van." Johnson used the binoculars for a moment, then said, "Fuck!" It turned out it wasn't a fire, but Stormberg was burning paper and trash in the metal trash can to create a smokescreen obscuring his view. 

Johnson also noticed, the gunfire from the shop became increasingly sporadic. The long bursts of Uzi fire were no more, only the occasional crack of a revolver whenever a Hit team member appeared in their line of fire. 

‘Looks like they're running out of ammo’, Johnson thought to himself. He signaled the Hit Team to move into the store. Castillo ordered another suppressive fire towards the store lobby, but this time Kersey and 5 team members were ready to rush into the store. 

In the shattered lobby of the tire shop, the van's engine was still running, and the smoke from burning trash mixed with the car exhaust was suffocating and painful when Stormberg decided to abandon the fight and flee. 

Unfortunately for one of his crew, Jack, who had been shot and unable to walk. He was on the other side of the store lobby, making it impossible to reach without risking police fire. "I'm sorry, brother. I have to leave you. Don't worry, Claire will receive the share of your reward." Stormberg put down a pistol and slid it toward his partner across the room. "Til Valhalla!" he said before fleeing to the back, followed by Nick, the driver. 

Moments later, Briene Kersey and her team were met with a barrage of gunfire, forcing them to duck for cover. A team member pointed to the direction the shots were coming from behind a pile of tires in the right corner of the lobby. 

Kersey watched for a moment, then raised her hands, signaling not to shoot. Jack Fisher could only lean his back against a pile of tires. Since being shot in the waist, he’s unable to move his legs. Now even his left hand felt numb and difficult to move. But the blood oath of brotherhood kept him fighting, trying to hold off the police as long as possible so his brothers could escape. 

A small grin appeared on his face as the barrage of shots he fired halted the officers' advance. He took a deep breath, gathering his strength, and raised his pistol again, ready to shoot anyone who dared approach. 

His hands trembled, until suddenly, from behind the pile of tires, a foot swiftly stepped on his hand. The pistol went off when it hit the floor, followed by a deep, feminine voice yelling, "Don't resist, I'm arresting you." Sgt. Briene Kersey kicked Jack's gun away and ordered her team to immediately take him to the alley for paramedics. 

"There's another one in the van! apparently deceased," a Heat Team member also found Garcia lying face down in the rear of the van. 

 

CHAPTER 9, SCENE 8 

8.50 AM, Thursday, April 30, 1987 

The gunfire had stopped, a long silence. Likewise, the second floor, filled with display racks, mannequins, and even a few abandoned garments, created a stuffy, dusty atmosphere. 

Molenski stalked the shadows, chasing the sound of slow, accelerating footsteps. "Stop, or I'll shoot!" A shadow passed in front of him, paused as if about to give up, but suddenly turned around and fired... Bang! Molenski dodged, aiming his gun and shoot back, "Bang! Bang!" 

His shot struck the shadow, but it shattered into pieces! It turned out he'd shot the reflection of a person in the mirror! A short laugh rang out, "Watch out, detective, the suspense could kill you!" 

Before the sound could finish echoing in the half-empty room, Molenski fired twice more, this time aiming at the actual target! A groan was heard, followed by the sound of rapid footsteps. 

Molenski chased the sound of the footsteps, which sounded out of sync, indicating the owner was limping and injured. 

 

CHAPTER 9, SCENE 9 

8.48 AM, Thursday, April 30, 1987 

At the same time, In the smoke-filled lobby of the tire shop. Briene Kersey was assessing Garcia's deceased body when she she heard voice from the backroom, "Police! Hands up!" followed by the sound of gunfire in rapid succession. "Roy's been shot! The suspect is in the back room!" 

Briene Kersey rushed toward the sound. In the hallway near a storage room, an officer lay grimacing in pain, his colleague pressing a cloth against a wound in his lower ribs. He had been shot in the area not protected by his vest. "One man, with a shotgun, that way, be careful, ma'am." 

Briene Kersey hurried to the back of the dark corridor. As she passed two opposing doors, Kersey signaled her men to watch the right door while she entered the left. "Wham!" the door was kicked open, the room empty, but suddenly "Blam!" a shotgun shot from the opposing room blasted a large hole in the door, piercing through to the opposite wall, just inches from the head of an officer standing there. 

"Fall back team, fall back!" Kersey shouted a signal for his men to run, while she remained standing silently beside the door. 

A moment felt like hours, when Briene Kersey heard the sound of the door sliding open from inside. The barrel of a shotgun appeared from behind the door, as if spying in the hallway. 

Kersey took a deep,sharp breath, clenched her jaw, and quickly grabbed the barrel of the shotgun and pushed it upward with her left hand as she entered the room, pushing the person holding the gun away from the door. 

“BLAM!” The sound of the gunshot echoed loudly, and Kersey winced, her hearing momentarily fading. Left hand slightly burnt holding the hot barrel of the shotgun. 

"I'll kill you, bitch!" Stromberg cursed, then deliberately let go of the shotgun in his hand, drew his knife, and stabbed it at Kersey. 

Kersey reflexively tried to block it with his left hand, but it was too late; Stormberg's knife plunged into her lower right abdomen, just below her vest. 

Stormberg grinned and pulled out his knife, ready to stab again, but his grin vanished when he saw Kersey's right hand holding a M1911.45ACP pistol. Bang! Bang! The gun fired twice, and Stormberg was thrown against the wall before his body slowly slid down. 

Briene Kersey's eyes were dizzy, her ears still ringing from the sound of shotgun fire, she winced in pain in her stomach, swaying and losing her balance, but before she could fall, Sergeant Castillo stepped in and held her. 

 

CHAPTER 9, SCENE 10 

8.49 AM, Thursday, April 30, 1987 

The cat and mouse game on the second floor is not over yet Sgt. George Molenski was still chasing a Green Dragon member he had wounded. The sound of his footsteps made it clear he was limping. 

At one turn in the hallway between meeting rooms, Molenski caught a glimpse of his opponent's shadow entering one of the small offices. "Molenski, where are you?" Janice's voice called out from the other end of the room. 

Molenski briefly glanced away from the office entrance in the direction of Janice's voice. Within seconds, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a shadow emerging from the door. Reflexively, Molensi dropped to his knees, just as the cold wind from the bullet whizzed past the top of his head, shattering one of the display rack structures behind him. 

Shotgun! Molenski rolled to his right side, just as the shotgun pointed at him roared loudly, sending shards of broken tile flying. 

Molenski tried to get up as quickly as possible, but his feet slipped and he fell back to the floor. "The tables are turned, detective!" a voice called out, accompanied by the sound of a shotgun being cocked. 

Molenski tried to stand again, but this time a gentle hand grabbed his right arm and pulled him up to his feet. "Are you okay, George?" Janice stood beside him, calmly pointing the gun toward the sound of approaching footsteps. 

As soon as he stood up, Molenski suddenly pushed Janice, causing them both to fall and roll down the hallway together. Just as the muzzle of a shotgun appeared from the end of the hallway and immediately fired, destroying everything there. This time, it was Molenski and Janice who were overwhelmed by Kang's increasingly frenzied men. 

His leg had been shot by Molensky and now he was limping. But he continued to advance, arrogantly cocking his shotgun with one while keep taunting and challenging Molenski. 

Unfortunately, Janice drop his gun when she and Molenski fell and rolled down in the hallway. Molenski shout he’s empty and both took cover behind the open door leading to the reception desk. 

As soon as the frenzied gang member fired, the wall panel, which turned out to be made of drywall, shattered. "Aha, you're cornered like rats!" His voice hoarse, he paused for a moment, gripping the shotgun with one hand, as if trying to guess which side of the wall Molenski and Janice were behind. BLAM!...BLAM! The broken drywall, pierced by the shotgun pellets, drew closer to Janice and Molenski's hiding position. 

Suddenly there was a sound like a cupboard collapsing, in succession until it ended with a heavy thud. A moment later, silence returned except for the sound of groans of pain. 

"Ma'am, where are you? Its safe now, he’s down!" Seymour's voice searched for them. Janice and Molenski emerged from hiding, starring at the injured Kang's man, who was pinned to the waist by a cupboard. He tried to pull out his shotgun, but it remained stuck in the cupboard. "Raise your hands, show me your hands, and put them behind your head." 

The man seemed unmoved, his mouth mumbling as if he were reciting curses in Mandarin. Suddenly, his hand reached behind his waist and pulled out a pistol. 

Bang! Bang! Bang! A burst of gunfire echoed through the air. Seymour was ready to fire a fourth time when Kang's tough man collapsed limply on his back. 

 

CHAPTER 9, SCENE 11 

8.51 AM, Thursday, April 30, 1987 

Meanwhile, on the third floor, Lisa moved slowly among the abandoned cubicles of desks. The third floor appears to have been used as an office. Unlike the second floor, which has an open staircase, access to the third floor requires a door with a reception desk next to it. 

Suddenly, she heard the sound of running footsteps in one corner of the room. 

She immediately approached the source of the sound. The dimly lit floor of the former office added to the tension. The sound of an object falling behind her made Lisa reflexively turn around and aim her gun at the source of the sound. 

Far away on the other side of the long hallway from where she stood, a figure appeared startled to see her, as if they had accidentally encountered each other. He looked awkward, unarmed, but it was too far away and too dim to see his face clearly. 

The man simply shouted, "I'm unarmed, don't shoot!" and then ran, disappearing behind a row of mannequins. Lisa was now walking more cautiously. 

The faint sound of gunfire outside had stopped, as if she were the only one still in a dangerous situation. 

She walked past a mirror in front of the restroom entrance. Looking in the mirror for a moment, Lisa felt like she'd never looked so disheveled before. She realized she was still in her disguise as Linda, the street girl who was Lopez's girlfriend. 

Denim jacket, tank top, denim short skit, and low-heeled pumps. The difference was that she now had an LAPD badge clipped to her waist. 

But that was it; the rest of her looked disheveled. She'd been given a stimulant drink by an old woman who'd misjudged her identity, spent a night in a strange room, in a strange bed, on a strange body, and then today, nearly being killed by two amateurs in an abandoned garage. 

Plus there is a possibility that all her undercover efforts and sacrifices would be in vain when they couldn’t find evidence of Bobby Chun's involvement or determine the identity of the man called Mr. Boss. 

Suddenly, a door slammed behind him. It was the entrance from the stairs. What was happening? Had his colleagues already cleaned up downstairs and were now coming to help him? Lisa threw all those thoughts away, she had to refocus on this dangerous situation. 

The hallway she was walking through ended with a door, in front of which a flickering light was on. Lisa opened the door slowly, not wanting to make any noise, or attract any attention. She found herself in a fairly spacious meeting room. 

There were no longer any tables or chairs, but a large, worn mattress sat in the middle of the room. "It looks like this place is used for shooting child pornography." Lost in her own thoughts, she lost her guard, and suddenly, she was hit, falling face-first onto the worn mattress. 

A rough, strong hand reached out to grab her gun, and at the same time, Lisa felt the breath of the person on top of her fanning her temples. 

"Stop!, this place is surrounded by the police, you won't be able to escape, it's better...you...surrender!" Lisa's voice was a mix of panic and struggle to hold on to her gun from being snatched by the mysterious man who was pinning her down. 

The man completely gained the upper hand, pressing Lisa's right wrist holding the gun with one hand and pressing her left wrist with his right hand. The man slowly adjusting his position, from pinning down Lisa with his full body weight, now change 

Now in full mount position, he began to straighten his body while his waist remained between Lisa's thighs, pressing hard giving no room for Lisa to break free. 

"Don't fight back, we both want to survive," the man said calmly even though his breath was still panting. "I have to take you hostage to escape from here," 

In this position, Lisa could clearly see her attacker's face. A shiver ran down her spine when she saw the man wearing vampire-fang dentures. Lisa recalled a victim's testimony, describing one of the guards who assaulted them as terrifying because of his Dracula-like fangs. 

When the man released her right hand and about to choke her neck, Lise deflect his right hand aside and grab it with one hand. Lisa kicked off her heels and pulled back her right leg towards her torso, slip it under his left arm, raise it and put it on his left shoulder while her left leg wrap around his right arms and shoulder, interlocking with her right leg. 

That move trapped his head and neck between her thigh and his own shoulder. The man just reallized what was happening but it was too late. the man panicked, realizing he was deep in a jujitsu choke. His left hand's grip slipped off by itself, and he could only thrash about, wringing, clawing blindly. 

Now, Lisa can use both hand to grab and pull his right hand tightening the Triangle Choke and holding it for several seconds, until she finally felt the man's body go limp. Fainting due to the oxygen supply to the brain being cut off. 

When Seymour Kuntz entered the room, he found Lisa sitting exhausted next to a man who appeared to be unconscious "Are you okay, ma'am?" Seymour asked in a worried tone. Lisa, still panting, reached out her hand. 

Seymour helped her up, then gathered her heels, which had scattered when Lisa hurriedly took them off while wrestling with the gang member. "Thanks, Seymour. That's very kind of you." “This one is Kang, He’s one of the senior member of the Green Dragon,” 

Seymour knelt beside him, about to handcuff him. Suddenly, his hand was pulled, causing Seymour to lose his balance and fall to the ground. Kang had apparently regained consciousness and had deliberately pretended to faint to ambush Seymour. "It's not that easy to catch me!" Kang shouted, trying to grab his gun. 

“BANG! BANG!” the sound of Lisa's gunshot echoed through the room. Kang's body fell forward without a sound. Seymour looked pale. 

"Thank you, ma'am. I'm sorry I let my guard down." Lisa reached out to help him up. 

CHAPTER 9, SCENE 12 

8.54 AM, Thursday, April 30, 1987 

The area is now crawling with activity. Yellow police tape cordons off the scene. 

Multiple ambulances, marked and unmarked police cars, and news vans crowd the narrow street. A handful of uniformed officers hold back journalists and onlookers, shielding camera angles with umbrellas and raised palms. 

The Vice team (Lisa, Molenski, Janice) regroup near the blood-spattered white van used by Stormberg to dispose Garcia. All of them wear medical masks, concealing their identities—standard protocol for active Vice UC officers. 

Johnson and Castillo stood beside Briene Kersey while she’s being treated on the stretcher, prepared to be transferred to the emergency room. She’s not critical but clearly out of action. 

After the her ambulance departed, Johnson, not in a mask, get into the Vice huddle and speaks with grim authority as the only official face of the operation. 

“Garcia’s gone. Executed during the firefight, he bled out before EMTs got to him,” Lisa lowers her head, eyes dark behind her mask. She doesn't speak. Johnson continued, “That’s it. Lopez still in critical condition, Garcia was the last piece to tie this mess to the kiddie ring. Now we’re holding scraps, not to mention our Hit Team suffers 4 casualties, 3 wounded including Kersey, and one, Roy Mullins in critical condition” 

He paused, starring at the bullet riddle on the van and continue, “Of the three Viking Lowrider’s goons, one escaped, one in critical condition and the one shot and killed by Kersey was Karl Stormberg. She dont have any choice but to protect herself. 

Two of the downed Green Dragon lookouts on the alley were in critical condition, three killed inside the building, including Kang, only one arrested alive and unharmed,” Johnson paused for a beat, exhaled and continued in low voice, “Kang’s just a mid-tier muscle. Yes we arrest one of Kang’s soldier’s alive but I'm not sure they can provide intel we don't already know,” “And still no sign of “Mr.Boss” ever being present at this place”, Johnson muttered angrily. 

Molenski, “So we’re back to square one. Without Garcia, we’ve got nothing hard to reach Mr. Boss,” 

Lisa sighed in disappointment, “Three days under, and the bastard slips right through. All my contacts—gone. “ Johnson try to calm her down, “You did what you had to. At least we get the bigger picture of this missing childs to porn and trafficking ring, we got new character, “Mr. Boss” and Bobby Chun’s name re-emerge, again the syndicate using his property, so we get new names and motives and crime. Cheer up Lisa, the investigation just get more juicy,” 

Molenski put his hand on Lisa’ shoulder, “We’ll find a way in. You’re not doing it alone next time,” 

Seymour Kuntz, the rookie detective, steps into frame, catching his breath after the firefight. Lisa eyes him, then gives a rare appreciative nod. “By the way, thanks for the save today, also you check on me upstairs,” Seymour (stammering) “I..yeah..of course, I mean..glad I could uhm..“ Lisa cutting him off with a smirk, “I owe you. I’ll make it up to you at the next Vice Party,” A beat. Seymour - stunned, nearly whispers,”…Wait—seriously?” She winks through her mask. He turns red. Janice, catching this from the side, gives the rookie a side-eye smirk of amusement. 

They understand, this is the moment they call ‘adrenaline convo’, a relieving moment after tensed encounter like this. 

A few steps away, Janice chats with Molenski, half out of her mask, sipping bottled water, brushing a few blood flecks off her blouse. He gave her compliment, “Still sharp, Janice. Guess that sultry redhead-bookworm-with-a-gun thing’s working for you,” 

Janice smirking, “Sultry’s part-time. Bookworm’s full-time...but if you’re at the next Vice Party, I’ll bring the bikini. Or should I ask Kathy O’Hara to hand-deliver your invite?” Molenski chuckles, shaking his head as if regretting the mental image already. 

Captain Novak arrives on scene, stepping from a black department SUV. He surveys the chaos and steps directly to Johnson, “ Good work, detective. I’ll take it from here. Let’s get your face on the press mic,” Johnson gives the Vice team one last look, then moves toward the awaiting media scrum. 

 

CHAPTER 10, SCENE 1 

1.30 PM, Thursday, April 30, 1987 

At Capt. Novak Office, Detectives Ray Johnson, Lisa Tran-Nguyen, and George Molenski are already waiting when Captain Novak walks in, holding a thick folder. 

He looks grim but controlled. He sits, tosses folder on the desk... “We just pulled off one hell of a shootout in Chinatown. Zero civilian casualties, only one officer injured, none life threatening its, ..miraculous, considering the mess. But that didn’t stop the media from blowing it up. Now the brass are breathing down my neck.” 

Molenski,”They want answers?” Capt. Novak “They want results. They want headlines like “Vice Unit Dismantles Major Syndicate,” not “ Vice Turns Downtown into a Warzone.” 

Novak contunued “Look, we kept people safe, but we didn’t close the case. That building's ruined. The scene’s dead. In their eyes, we’re back to square one,” 

“We’re not. We’ve narrowed it down. The man called “Mr. Boss” and find another “coincidence” where it connected to Bobby Chun," Johnson replied with emphasis in his voice.

Capt. Novak shook his head, “That’s exactly why I say we’re back to the start,” He leans in, “Three years ago, Billy Chun was a suspect for his involvement in a child porn and kidnapping ring. That case went cold—he walked clean, and the main suspect skipped the country. You know who ran it? 

Lisa answered, “Captain Lance’s squad. I remember the reports.” 

Capt. Noval nodded, “Right. Monica Lance was lead. Field investigators were Naomi Park and Victor Bardem. I’ve already called Lance—she’s willing to help. Her squad still the same, Park and Bardem.," 

Johnson added, “Lets start with Bobby Chun, of course, we cant take him. he wasn’t on-site yesterday. We’ll question him—keep it soft. No need to stir things up with the Chinese community without hard evidence.” 

Molenski, “Still, we better start surveillance. Track his movement, monitor his calls. If he runs, we lose him again.” 

Capt Novak nodded, “Agreed. George, start the paperwork for tailing and phone taps—I’ll help push it through the judge.” 

Lisa : ” The two captured Green Dragon members couldn't provide any solid intelligence. They claimed they were there simply to escort Kang. Said they didn’t even know who owned the place. And Kang, i am sorry i couldn't catch him alive,” 

Capt. Novak, “So Kang’s dead. Chun’s alive and lawyered-up. Which means we need leverage.” He turns to Lisa, “You’re going to see Raymond Wong. He was the one who helped Lance’s squad dig into Jimmy Wu’s operation three years back," 

Lisa reminded, “Wong stopped talking to us after that sting collapsed.” Capt. Novak “But he still talks to Naomi Park, right?” 

Johnson,” Ah Romi!, she and Lisa will definitely get along. What a perfect combination, I bet Rarymond Wong will be eager to help.” 

Capt. Novak,” Then bring her. Wong might open up if Naomi’s in the room. If there’s a connection between Chun and the mysterious dude called Mr.Boss, we need it yesterday.” He paused for a beat, “Let’s get moving. Clock’s ticking, and I need wins,” 

- 3.15 PM at the LAPD Medical Service Center -  

"What brings you here so late? You're usually here early morning," medical examiner Abigail Mendez, MD, asked curtly but kindly. 

"I wasn't sure if this needed to be reported as part of the assignment, but it seems like it is," Lisa replied, blushing awkwardly. A calm smile appeared on Doctor Abigail Mendez's lips. "The more careful the better, my dear." 

Then she continued, "Okay, let's get straight to the point. When was the contact?" 

"Wednesday night, two days ago." 

"Level of contact?" 

Lisa paused, took a breath, and answered, "Level 4." 

Doctor Abigail asked again, but in a more sympathetic tone. "What kind of penetration?" 

Lisa answered, her gaze looking up at the ceiling. "Vaginal." 

"Protected?" 

"Uhm, no," Lisa's voice was hoarse as she answered. "But this isn't part of the assignment," she explained. 

Doctor Abigail looked at her, giving her space to explain further. "Well, doc, umm... I think I got carried away," her face flushed as she tilted her head with a bitter smile. "It's like this, Doc. I mean, uhm," Lisa hesitated before asking her question.

Doctor Abigail smiled, placing her hands on Lisa's shoulders. "You just need confirmation that it's safe, right?" Lisa nodded. "I'm on the pill, Doc, but I need an STD test because, you know, i have Vinh...." Her face fell in shame, her hands covering her face, tears streaming down her cheeks. 

Doctor Abigail hugged her. "Lisa, don't worry, I'll run a full panel of tests on you. It’s part of the job, it exposes you to many difficult choices, whether you realize it or not. Its not you, Don’t let this be a burden for you, don’t let it ruin your relation with your husband because of this,  If you need counseling, i can recommend a counselor for you," 

 

CHAPTER 10, SCENE 2 

9.20 AM, Friday, May 1, 1987 

Office Kitchenette room, Vice Division Section, LAPD HQ. 

Lisa sat alone at the small table in the kitchenette, cradling a warm mug of coffee, staring into the void. Steam curled upward, unnoticed. Her eyes weren’t on the room—they were on the past three days. 

Three days ago, she and the team arrested Juan Lopez, their first real lead in the child kidnapping case. That bust led to her going undercover, posing as Lopez’s girl to gain Garcia’s trust. 

She remembered the tension of waiting at Garcia’s house—how she had to play the role under the watchful, hungry eyes of his men. The hands that lingered too long. The way they stared. 

She felt her heart quicken again as she recalled the close call—the shootout that erupted when Garcia spotted plainclothes cops in the neighborhood. They missed him. 

That night, Vinh had picked her up. Her husband. Her anchor. They drove home in silence, and later, under soft sheets and whispered breaths, they made love. It was comforting. Familiar. 

The next day—two days ago—she continued her role. Still Lopez’s girl. Still deep inside. She used him to draw Garcia out again, and this time they got close. Real close. 

But things went off-script. She made a snap decision to stay the night at Lopez’s apartment with both men. His aunt had innocently served them a traditional aphrodisiac herb. What happened next… wasn’t supposed to happen. 

Lisa remembered the heat. The lack of control. The moment she found herself straddling Juan Lopez. Not as a cop. Not as a wife. But as a woman overcome. 

She moved on him the way she’d moved on her husband just the night before. And for the first time in five years of marriage—despite all the flirtations, the dirty talk, the close calls—she actually crossed the line. Real sex. Real climax. With someone else. 

It hadn’t been part of the plan. And what haunted her the most? She enjoyed it. 

Yesterday came with its own cost. Two contacts—gone. Two deaths. Two failures she couldn’t shake. 

And yet last night, Vinh had picked her up again. Held her again. They made love again. And it should’ve been enough. But it felt different. 

Last night, on top of Vinh, Lisa found herself chasing something else—something new. She adjusted her rhythm. Her touch. Her hips. She wanted to recapture that raw, unfiltered thrill she'd felt riding Lopez. It frightened her. 

She was lucky she didn’t call out the wrong name. Vinh, sweet and sincere, didn’t suspect a thing. Or maybe he did. He said he loved the new energy she brought. He held her tighter, kissed her longer. Trusted her more. 

And that made it worse. She hated herself for it. Not for the act. But for the betrayal of his trust. She hoped Johnson—her partner in the field—would keep it all quiet. He knew what had happened. He wouldn’t judge her. He couldn’t. 

Her trance broke as the kitchenette door opened. Detective George Molenski stepped in, holding a cigarette between his fingers like it was the last one on Earth. Molenski: “Sorry to disturb your meditation, partner. Mind if I grab a quick smoke?” 

Lisa smirked. Molenski (grinning): “Hey, when’s the next Vice Party? I think I’ll actually show up this time. You coming? Don’t leave that poor rookie hangin’. We should bring Johnson too—been a while since the three of us hit the floor together.” 

Lisa laughed, shaking her head as she sipped. “That was a one-time mandatory event, right? I still don’t know what kind of weed we smoked that night to make us do that crazy thing.” 

Molenski teasing, “Oh, come on. You enjoyed that thing way more than the weed.” Lisa blushing, yank Molenski’s ear affectionately : “Knock it off junior.” 

They laughed—but then Lisa's smile faded slightly. A sudden realization settled in. She’d been to Vice Parties plenty of times. Shared intimate moments. Sure. But those were with friends. Inside safe walls. Among people she trusted—people who’d take a bullet for her. 

But what happened with Lopez… That wasn’t a party. That wasn’t a game. That was the Blue Line, Crossed, With all its danger, risk, and raw vulnerability. And she wasn’t sure she could cross back. 

 

CHAPTER 10, SCENE 3 

9.35 AM, Friday, May 1, 1987 

Late morning, Still inside Vice Unit kitchenette room, 

The hum of the flickering fluorescent light above cast a tired pallor across the cramped kitchenette. 

Lisa leaned against the worn counter, her half-empty mug of black coffee cooling beside her. Molenski sat on a stool near the mini-fridge, legs spread, arms crossed, enjoying the silent comradery and chemistry between them. 

The door swung open with a hard push. Detective Johnson stepped in, eyes dark with frustration. “Goddammit,” he muttered, shutting the door behind him. Lisa straightened. Johnson didn’t wait for questions. “Just got word from the local precinct. Yesterday afternoon—right after the damn shootout—Bobby Chun’s lawyer filed a report. Breaking and entering at his property,” 

Johnson paused, cursed under his breath and continued, “He reported damage to the door and several other pieces of furniture. This is clearly an attempt to wash his hands of the situation. In the previous case, his excuse was renting out the property without knowing what his client was doing. Currently, the vacant property is being used by someone else to commit illegal acts.” Johnson growled. “So now Chun plays the victim card, what an ass......” 

Molenski clenching his fist. “Shit,” 

Lisa said flatly. “He’ll spin it and leave no reason for us to even questioning him,” 

Johnson nodded. “yes, we got nothing, The only thing still open is Mr. Boss, our ghost. And we just lost Garcia, our only link that can recognize him,......and Lopez.” He paused. Lisa picked up on it immediately. “What?” 

“I just got off the line with Yue Hospital,” Johnson said grimly. “Lopez didn’t make it. He was pronounced dead twenty minutes ago.” 

Lisa went still. She didn’t cry. She didn’t flinch. But something inside her… sagged. The breath she let out was quiet, shaky. She’d expected it—when the paramedics loaded him out of that garage, she could see it in their eyes. 

Still, hearing it out loud made it real. And real came with a strange kind of hollow ache. Not grief. Not love. Just… absence. A haunting echo of that raw, strange intimacy two nights ago. 

That brief, breathless moment where a man opened something in her—something dangerous and confusing. She wasn’t missing him, she realized. She missed the feeling. The experience. That part scared her more than she’d admit. “He’s gone,” she murmured. 

They were quiet a moment. Then Lisa pushed off the counter. “So now it’s down to two angles,” she said. “Molenski stays on Chun with the surveillance team, see if he slips up. I’ll follow the lead with the journalist. Maybe there’s something buried in the reporting. A missed name. A new thread. Maybe Raymond Wong still has eyes on the old case.” 

Johnson scratched his jaw. “Actually…” He turned to Molenski. “Are we still got someone in Chinatown?” “Yeah,” Molenski said slowly. “The Vice Community Liaison Office, Chinatown Desk, i’ll ask Geoffrey, he still in charge of intel asset there” 

“Tap him,” Johnson said. “We need intel on the Green Dragon gang. Specifically, anyone with ties to Kang or know the identity of Mr. Boss, We find a link from Kang to Chun, we can start threading this thing back together.” Molenski nodded, already reaching for his Rolodex. 

 

CHAPTER 10, SCENE 4 

9.40 AM, Thursday, May 1, 1987 

Before anyone could speak further, the door creaked open again. “Hope I’m not crashing the boys’ club.” Naomi Park stepped inside like a breeze from another world—soft and sharp all at once. Thirty-three, Korean-American, with a dancer’s poise and cheekbones that could cut glass. 

Her long black hair was tied back in a tight ponytail, still wearing sweat pants, sneakers and a sweater from the LAPD fitness center on the top floor. She looked like Michelle Yeoh before Hollywood found her. 

“Hey, Romi,” Molenski greeted, standing and kissing her cheek. “Hi, handsome.” Naomi smiled, brushing his nose with a teasing flick of her fingers. "Hi, Chief, how are you? How's it like dealing with Bobby Chun?" Naomi asked, half-teasingly. "Never, but seeing what he does, I can feel what you guys feel when dealing with him in." Johnson took a sip of coffee. 

Naomi tilted her head and raised her hands. "It's not a pleasant experience to remember, especially when it reaches a dead end. You know, like having a debt." 

Naomi hugged Lisa, "But I think you can solve everything this time. Vic and I hope we can put an end to their crimes." Lisa said, "So, what about that journalist of yours? I hope with us around, he'll be eager to help shed light on this case." 

Naomi grinned slightly, "Well, I'm ready to be the sweetener to smooth things over." Johnson asked, "So, what time are you leaving?" Lisa said as soon as Naomi was ready. 

"You or I'll drive?" Naomi said. Lisa replied, "Don't worry, I'll drive. It's only about 2-3 hours down to San Diego. I let you sleep all along the road, coz you must save your energy for him tonight right?" They laughed. 

Johnson shook his head, "You guys are too enthusiastic. It's dangerous." 

END OF PART.1