First Day

The next day, Ethan woke up early in bed. The effects of the physical enhancement potion were obvious. It had been a long time since he had felt such refreshment upon waking. With so much energy, he saw that he had plenty of time, so he laced up his shoes and started jogging along Route 6.

After his morning workout, he took a shower, got ready to leave, and grabbed his truck keys.

He drove to the parking lot next to the police station and parked. He headed to Myers Restaurant, a familiar spot. Upon entering, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee hit him. He ordered his usual pancakes and coffee.

After quickly finishing his breakfast, Ethan walked to the police station. Upon entering, he greeted Alma, who was seated at the reception desk. She handed him a heavy service bag.

—Here you go, Ethan. Your new uniform,— Alma said.

—Thanks, Alma,— he replied with a smile, taking the bag that contained his police attire.

Since no one else had arrived yet, he headed to the locker room. Wearing rigid black combat boots and a dark blue police uniform, Ethan smoothed the wrinkles on his clothes in front of the mirror, ensuring everything was in place. After putting on the uniform, he noticed his posture seemed firmer, his presence more commanding.

Just then, someone called him from outside. He quickly stuffed his clothes into his work bag and stepped out with it.

All the members of the Banshee Town Police Department had arrived. Brock saw Ethan in his uniform, nodded in approval, and extended his hand to introduce two police officers standing beside him.

—Officer Emmett Youngs.—

—Officer Siobhan Kelly.—

Looking at the tall, dark-skinned man in front of him, Ethan extended his hand and said:

—Hi, I'm Ethan Morgan.—

Emmett smiled and shook his hand.

—Call me Emmett, and welcome to the Banshee Town Police Department.—

Ethan turned and also shook hands with Siobhan, who had thick braids, and greeted her.

After a brief swearing-in ceremony, Brock pinned the pentagonal police badge and department pin onto Ethan's chest. At the Banshee Town Police Department, only the chief had a private office; the other officers worked in the main hall.

Ethan tucked the service bag under his desk, and then Brock led him to pick up police equipment. They arrived at the equipment room, where Brock handed Ethan a bulletproof vest to wear. With no other choice, Ethan put it on over his uniform. He then fastened a utility belt around his waist, securing a police radio, an anti-theft holster, handcuffs, a key pouch, a spare magazine, pepper spray, and a retractable baton.

He opted for the baton for easier movement. As for using a taser, he thought it was mainly for show. After a moment's reflection, he deemed it nearly useless due to its limited range and effectiveness. How many suspects stayed down after being tased?

If he ever faced someone resisting the law, he preferred using non-lethal rounds to handle the situation.

Regarding firearms, the station only offered three options. The Smith & Wesson .38 revolver had too few rounds and insufficient power. After debating between the M1911 and the Glock 17, Ethan chose the Glock 17. Its reliability and 17-round double-stack magazine gave him an inexplicable sense of security.

After registering the weapon's serial number, Brock instructed Ethan to load a magazine and led him to a small shooting range next to the equipment room. Generally, U.S. police officers practiced shooting whenever possible. As law enforcement, whether on duty or off, they needed to be proficient with firearms for crime prevention or self-defense. They might not always use them, but they couldn't go without them.

—Let's see what you've got,— Brock said after demonstrating, stepping aside to watch.

Despite the original owner's academy training, this was Ethan's first real-life shooting experience, yet he didn't feel nervous. He walked confidently to the firing position, held the gun in his right hand, and aimed downrange. Then, after steadying himself, he repeatedly pulled the trigger at the target 15 meters away.

—Bang, bang, bang, bang!—

Ethan waited until the magazine was empty before lowering the pistol. Since his physical strength had improved, he barely felt the Glock 17's light recoil. He even felt that handling a Desert Eagle would now be manageable.

Thanks to his enhanced marksmanship, the target's center was practically obliterated.

—Good shooting. Looks like you've trained well,— Brock said, crossing his arms and nodding in satisfaction. It was reassuring to see Ethan had the necessary skills.

—When we patrol, besides the standard gear, we can also keep a shotgun or an M4A1 in the car for added firepower. You'll be patrolling with me for the next three days, so no need for extra equipment just yet. I'll help you gear up later.—

—Go reload your ammunition. I'll be waiting outside.—

After speaking, Brock left. Ethan picked up a bullet casing, sniffed it deeply, and smiled while examining the dense holes in the target. He wondered how far his marksmanship could go with further improvement.

He returned to the equipment room, loaded the empty magazine with 9mm hollow-point rounds, and inserted it back into the holster. After filling two spare magazines and attaching them to his belt, he adjusted his uniform with satisfaction and quickly headed out.

By the time Ethan reached the parking lot, Brock was already waiting in a standard police Crown Victoria. Ethan opened the door, settled into the passenger seat, and Brock started the engine.

—I'll take you through the outskirts. There's an indigenous casino out there,— Brock said as he drove.

—The Chino tribe is right next to our town. Every month, after receiving government subsidies, the natives come to Banshee Town to spend money and drink. Occasionally, conflicts break out. We often have jurisdictional disputes.—

As they drove, Brock described the town's dynamics. Passing an intersection, Ethan noticed a sign reading Savoy Gentlemen's Club in a nearby parking lot.

—That's Kai Proctor's place,— Brock commented, noting Ethan's gaze. —You need to be cautious around him. He controls all the nearby criminal gangs and is involved in extortion, prostitution, murder, drugs, you name it.—

—And you haven't done anything?— Ethan asked, puzzled.

—We've tried arresting him. At critical moments, witnesses vanish, or evidence disappears. We haven't been able to convict him.—

After a pause, Brock added:

—When the new sheriff arrives, there'll definitely be a welcome party. You'll meet him then.—

When the light turned green, Brock fell silent and continued driving. Turning at an intersection, an old truck appeared ahead, wobbling down the road with a hole in its taillight.