[Two Days Later]
[Bar in West Hollywood, 8:13 PM]
The bar was somewhat popular, warm with old wood and exposed brick, the kind of place cops favored after long shifts. Nothing flashy. A jukebox in the corner played something bluesy and low. The booths were deep, the drinks strong, and the bartenders didn't ask questions.
Chloe Decker sat in the far booth, half-finished whiskey in hand, eyes scanning the half-empty glass like it held answers. She doesn't usually drink, but lately, too many cases and all, so she needed a break. Her blonde hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, and the stress lines near her eyes had deepened over the years. The badge had that effect. Especially in LA.
She'd been with the LAPD for over a decade now, but the wounds went further back.
Her father had been a cop. Old-school, clean, and proud of it. He'd been gunned down responding to a routine robbery gone wrong. Chloe was sixteen. After that, she didn't just want justice. She wanted to live in the system and fix it from the inside.
And she tried. She became a detective. Married Dan Espinoza. Had a daughter, Trixie, who was the only thing that kept her grounded some days.
But then came Palmetto Street. Malcolm Graham. A case that turned her into a department outcast almost overnight. She'd kept digging when she wasn't supposed to. Found too much. Her marriage didn't survive it. Dan tried. He really did. But the job always came first, and Chloe couldn't stop chasing what everyone else wanted buried.
So, she raised Trixie as best she could, stayed on the force, and never apologized for doing the right thing, even when it cost her everything.
Now, she waited.
Lucy Chen dropped into the seat across from her, shrugging out of her jacket and ordering tequila before even saying hello. Detective Angela Lopez joined a few seconds later, sliding a folder onto the table before sitting down.
"Sorry I'm late," Lopez said, glancing around. "The new rookie thought 'booking evidence' meant uploading it to a database."
Chloe cracked a tired smile. "Don't worry. I've been enjoying the silence."
Lopez flipped open the folder, revealing copies of missing persons files. She pulled out one photo in particular, a paparazzo named Jason Winston.
Chloe leaned in. "I've seen him before. Used to hang around the studio gates. Real piece of work. Tried to sell dirt on half the B-listers." She flipped through, quickly reading the highlighted lines. 'Huh?! This guy?' Her eyes fell on Alex's photo.
"We got a DNA match last week," Lopez said. "His remains showed up in a junkyard, crushed inside a compacted car. The case was cold for months. Then boom. We get a miracle clue, and the second we start pulling threads, someone higher up tells us to back off."
Chloe nodded slowly. "How high up?"
"Governor's office," Lucy said. "Or maybe even higher. Lieutenant Grey shut it down fast. Didn't want any names connected. Told Lopez to walk."
Chloe tapped her finger on Alex's photo. "And you think Wilson's connected."
"We don't know for sure," Lopez said. "But every victim we traced had one thing in common. They all followed Alex Wilson in the weeks before they vanished. One or two could have been a coincidence, but all of them? Something is going on here."
Chloe leaned back. "That's a big leap from stalking to body disposal."
"I'm not saying he did it himself," Lopez said. "But a man that powerful? With money like his? If he wanted to disappear someone, he wouldn't lift a finger. He'd pay someone to do it, or someone would do it for him."
Lucy nodded. "Someone protective. Someone loyal."
"Or scared," Lopez added.
Chloe sat quietly for a beat, then nodded toward the folder. "You have evidence?"
"Not enough," Lopez said. "That's why we need you."
Chloe gave a faint laugh. "You don't need me. You need my friends in New York since he's in NY, shooting for his upcoming movie."
"You keeping tabs on him?" Lopez asked.
"Well, he made some awesome movies, so yeah. I kinda follow his Insta and Twitter," Chloe replied as she took a sip from her glass.
Their drinks came soon and they all took a shot...
Lucy leaned in. "You worked a serial killer case with the NYPD recently, right? Joint task force?"
Chloe nodded. "Yeah. Helped track down a guy operating in both cities. He had roots in Queens. I made a few friends. One of them, Detective Janelle Ruiz, is good. Smart. Knows how to operate off the books."
"We need a footprint in New York," Lopez said. "Discreet. Someone who can check old records. Talk to the ME. Look into similar disappearances. And not raise alarms."
Chloe glanced between them. "You're planning an off-the-grid investigation."
"We're not planning it," Lopez said. "We're already doing it."
Lucy added, "And if we're right, we're going to need help. This isn't just some missing-persons case. Someone out there is tying off loose ends. And doing it quietly."
Chloe exhaled slowly. She looked down at the photo of Winston again.
"I'll make the call," she said. "But if this turns into something big, you'd better be ready. Because once we open this door, there's no walking it back."
Lopez didn't blink. "We know."
Chloe picked up her glass, swirled the last sip, and knocked it back.
"Alright," she said, standing. "Give me a day. I'll reach out to Ruiz. If anyone in NYPD can get us what we need, it's her."
Suddenly, Lucy's eyes widened when she saw the man of the hour walking through the front door. He sat on the stool before the bar and ordered a drink.
Alex Wilson.
Right before her eyes.
[The reason she identified him despite his incognito skill is below...]
...
Alex Wilson sat alone at the end of the bar, elbows resting lightly on the counter, his eyes distant as he waited for his drink. The bartender set down a highball of something amber and smooth, but Alex barely glanced at it. The wear of the day clung to him more than his tailored jacket. His face was clean-shaven, his black button-up slightly wrinkled, and the edges of his focus frayed from too many hours on set.
He was supposed to be relaxing. Buying a rare Lotus Sport Exige 240R in LA should have been a quick, pleasant errand. It had been on his list for months, and now that it was parked safely in his LA penthouse garage, he figured he'd walk the strip, grab some food, and unwind.
He never expected to walk into this bar.
He definitely didn't expect what came next.
As his fingers closed around the cold glass, a sharp flicker passed behind his eyes. He froze. His pupils contracted. A shimmer, barely perceptible to anyone else, passed through his gaze.
[SYSTEM ALERT] (PS: Won't lie and come clean, I forgot about the system😬]
Main System Reboot completed... [Skills are available for use now.]
New World Unlocked: [The Rookie] and [Lucifer]
Classification: Dual Narrative Branch Detected
Level of Interference: Medium
Quests Updating... Please Wait.
The words burned across his vision in pale, crystalline blue, hovering only inches from his sightline. To anyone else, he was just a man staring at his drink. To Alex, the bar vanished into a haze as information pulsed in silently, efficiently.
He hadn't seen this interface in months.
Not since the night he got that damned spatula and two other rewards.
Alex's jaw tightened slightly. His fingers never moved from the glass. The world around him returned to full clarity, but the message stayed.
[NEW QUEST CHAIN UNLOCKED]
Narrative Instability: High
Corruption Threat: Moderate
Goal: Survive the assassination
Reward: Dagger summon
Alex blinked once. Then again.
"Assassination? Eeh! Someone wants to kill me? Who and why?" he muttered under his breath, then gulped his drink in one go and tapped the counter twice.
The bartender, a guy in his late thirties with sleepy eyes and a sleeve of tattoos, raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He grabbed the bottle of Yamazaki and poured another glass without asking.
Alex downed half of it immediately, letting the burn slow his thoughts.
It didn't help.
A hundred questions clawed through his head, all of them chasing each other in a blur.
'Who the hell would try to kill me?'
'Why now?'
'Was it business?'
'Jealousy? Could be. I am making shit ton of money.'
'Old connections?'
'A rival studio? It could be Blackstar. But would they go as far as to try to kill me?'
'Someone from the past?'
'Did I cross someone powerful without knowing?'
He rubbed a hand down his face and tried to think clearly.
He was careful. Always. He didn't screw people over. He didn't make enemies, not publicly, at least. So why was there an assassination plot with his name on it?
And to make things worse, two series were unlocked, and one of them is Lucifer, of all the series out there.
He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out his phone, and stared at it.
No missed calls. No texts. Not from Max. Not from Caroline. Not even from Rachel.
He had finally hired security after he found out that he was in the top 5 in the rich ranking. They are the best, in theory. Discreet, invisible, expensive as hell. No one said anything.
He took another slow sip.
'Well, let them try. It's been a while since I got excited. Everything is going too perfectly. Now, time for some action.'
...
[Back to the trio]
Lopez was mid-sentence, laying out a hypothetical timeline, when Lucy abruptly froze.
Her mouth parted slightly. Her fingers tensed around her tequila glass.
Lopez caught the shift instantly. "What?"
Lucy didn't answer right away. She tilted her head just enough to get a better look toward the bar without being obvious.
"Third stool from the left," she said under her breath.
Chloe followed her line of sight. Her gaze locked onto the figure at the bar. Black shirt. Neatly tailored pants. Perfectly styled, slightly messy black hair. Sharp jawline. Yup! That's the guy. Every inch of him screamed wealth wrapped in modesty.
Chloe's expression didn't change. But her fingers curled ever so slightly under the table.
"That's him?" Lopez asked, too calmly.
Lucy nodded once. "Confirmed."
Chloe's eyes narrowed, watching the way he sat, still, relaxed, but not unaware. He hadn't looked their way, hadn't moved since the drink hit the bar.
"I thought he was in New York," she said quietly.
Lopez glanced down at the open folder, then back up. "Guess someone didn't update his Insta."
Lucy leaned closer to the table. "Could be a coincidence. He's rich. He probably owns a dozen places here."
Chloe's gut said otherwise.
"No," she said flatly. "That's not a coincidence. He walked into this bar. In this part of town. Just when we decided to meet up."
Lopez's brow furrowed. "You think he made us?"
"Maybe," Chloe murmured, eyes still on him. "But he's not running. That's not a man who feels threatened. That's a man waiting for something."
The three women watched as Alex raised his glass and sipped. He didn't look around. Didn't glance at the mirrors. Didn't twitch.
He looked like a man who knew he was being watched and didn't give a shit.
Chloe leaned back, forcing her body to relax even as her pulse ticked faster. "If this is really a coincidence, then dang! If not, then he got big balls."
Lucy whispered, "You want me to tail him when he leaves?"
"No," Chloe said, lips barely moving. "You tail a man like that, you won't make it two blocks."
Lopez tapped the folder closed and slid it under her jacket. "Then what? Walk over and say hi?"
Chloe was quiet for a beat. Then she exhaled.
"We don't flinch. Not yet. We act like we don't know him. Let him make the first move. If he wants to play mind games, we stay in the seat."
...
[15 Minutes Later]
Seven drinks in.
That was enough to make most men slur. Stumble. Show a little vulnerability at the edges.
Not Alex Wilson.
He sat like a stone polished into elegance. Spine straight. Hands loose around the glass. His eyes carried that same unreadable weight. Focused on nothing and everything.
The bar had quieted even more. People filtered in and out, but no one approached him. Even the bartender gave him space like something in the air said don't test this guy.
Chloe had been watching for too long.
If she stared any harder, he'd probably start charging rent for occupying her curiosity.
She set her drink down, stood smoothly, and gave Lucy and Lopez a sideways glance. "Don't follow. Don't interrupt. Let me feel him out. See if he knows anything about us."
Lopez raised a brow. "And if he bites?"
"I've handled worse than a spoiled genius with sharp cheekbones."
Lucy added under her breath, "You're into the cheekbones, huh?"
Chloe didn't respond. She walked toward the bar like it was just another Tuesday. The soft creak of her boots over old wood matched the tempo of the bluesy guitar from the jukebox.
She took the stool next to him and ordered a margarita.
He didn't turn.
She let the silence breathe for exactly three seconds.
Then: "That's your seventh drink?"
Alex answered without looking. "Counting my drinks already? We haven't even exchanged names."
--
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