[A few days later]
[Midday] [4th Avenue Building No. 4]
The stairwell echoed with boots and heavy breathing as Jake, Ray, and Elle burst through the fire door on the sixth floor. The murder suspect was fast, desperate, and bleeding from a cut on his forearm, but adrenaline had him moving like a cornered animal. He shoved through another door and sprinted into the main hallway, knocking over a cleaning cart as he went.
"NYPD," Jake shouted. "Stop running or I will continue running while complaining loudly."
The suspect skidded around the corner near the elevators and realized too late that he had nowhere left to go. The hallway ended in steel doors and a locked maintenance corridor. He turned, knife raised, eyes wild, chest heaving. "Fuck, fuck, fuck...!"
Ray slowed first. Elle moved to the side, cutting off any angle of escape, while Jake took the middle like he had practiced a hundred times.
"Drop the knife," Ray said calmly. "There's nowhere to run."
The suspect laughed while huffing. "Get back or else..." He swung the knife in the air.
"We got guns," Jake said, pointing his gun at him.
The elevator behind the suspect dinged.
Everyone froze.
The doors slid open with perfect, maddening timing.
The Vulture stepped out.
He was wearing an expensive jacket, sunglasses indoors, and a smile that suggested he had just won something he did not deserve. Before anyone could react, he moved. His hand snapped out, smacking the knife clean from the suspect's grip. The blade clattered across the tile and skidded to a stop near Ray's boot.
The Vulture grabbed the suspect by the collar, yanked him backward, and dragged him into the elevator with casual strength.
"Adios, suckers," he said cheerfully as he pressed the button.
Jake lunged forward. "No. No, no, no."
The elevator doors slid shut.
Silence settled over the hallway like an insult.
Jake bent forward, hands on his knees, then straightened and threw his head back. "Arrggg. Vulture."
Elle stared at the closed doors. "He just stole our collar."
Ray put on gloves and picked up the knife with two fingers. He examined it briefly before bagging it. "He had jurisdiction through Major Crimes. And I still don't get how he pops up right after we solve a crime."
Jake paced in a tight circle. "I hate him so much."
Elle exhaled sharply. "Internal Affairs is going to love this."
Ray nodded once. "He will take credit, posture for the press, and pretend he arrived by instinct."
...
[30 Minutes Later] [Nine-Nine]
Ray stood at the counter, making a cup of coffee from the new machine. 'I should upgrade the one at the house... Humm... Maybe I should wait for the upcoming new model.'
Rosa leaned against the counter beside him, eyes flicking toward the bullpen where Jake sat slouched in his chair, chin in his hand, staring at his monitor like it had personally betrayed him.
"What's wrong with him?" she asked, nodding once in Jake's direction.
Ray slid his cup under the spout and let the stream finish before answering. "The Vulture stole a solved murder case Jake had been working on for a week."
Rosa asked. "Again?"
"Yes," Ray replied, lifting the cup and taking a measured sip. "He showed up at the last possible second, disarmed the suspect, and took him in under Major Crimes jurisdiction."
Across the room, Jake let out a long, theatrical groan and pushed his chair back just enough to spin slightly. "I had motive, timeline, witness statements, and a confession coming in hot. All I needed was thirty more seconds. Thirty."
Amy glanced over her monitor with sympathy. "I am so sorry, Jake. You were so close."
Jake leaned his head back dramatically. "I could feel the press conference in my bones."
Rosa snorted softly. "You will survive."
"That is what people say before someone snaps and becomes a vigilante," Jake muttered.
Boyle passed behind them with a folder hugged to his chest, then stopped mid-step as the name registered.
"The Vulture," he repeated, eyes widening with immediate distress. "Oh no. Not again."
Ray looked at him. "He hit you too?"
Boyle nodded vigorously. "Last month. My homicide case. Ninety-eight percent solved. I had the suspect's travel records, financial motive, and a very compelling corkboard layout. He literally walked in during my final interview and said, 'Thanks for warming him up, Boyle,' then took the arrest."
Rosa looked angry. "We should burn down his car."
"Calm down, no one is burning any car or anyone," Ray said, patting Rosa's back. Then he leaned near her ear and whispered. "I got some C4 at home. Let's blast his car and make it look like someone's after him. That way, he'll stay indoors."
Rosa smirked. "That's why I love you."
"You know I was joking, right?"
"Are you?"
Ray chuckled as he took another sip of coffee.
Holt's office door opened, and the Captain stepped out with his usual composed stride, coffee already in hand. He took in the atmosphere in one glance, Jake's sulk, Boyle's visible trauma, and Rosa's barely contained irritation.
"Detective Peralta," Holt said evenly. "You appear to be experiencing disappointment."
Jake looked up. "Sir, with respect, the Vulture just stole my case like a raccoon stealing a hot dog."
Holt nodded once. "Yes. I am aware. He has already emailed me a press summary that includes the phrase 'my swift instincts.'"
Rosa folded her arms. "You going to let him get away with it?"
Holt took a slow sip of his coffee. "Yes. Major Crimes outranks us. So, there is nothing we can do."
"Damn it!" Jake punched his fist on his palm.
...
[Night] [Ray's house] [Gina's room]
The lights in Gina's room were low, not for mood but because she said harsh lighting killed creativity. A speaker sat on the dresser, playing something electronic and offbeat with an uneven rhythm that made it hard to predict where the count landed. The music was strange, almost aggressive, and it did not flow the way Ray expected.
Gina moved with absolute confidence anyway.
Her steps were sharp, then suddenly fluid, hips rolling one second and stopping the next, arms cutting through the air like she was daring the music to keep up. Ray followed as best he could, but the timing kept slipping through his fingers.
"Okay, no," Gina said, stopping abruptly and turning to face him. "You are thinking too much. This is not a drill. This is television. You need presence."
"I am present," Ray replied calmly. "Your steps change tempo every two beats."
"Yes, because life changes tempo every two beats," Gina said, waving a hand dismissively. "Adapt."
She started again, closer this time. Ray adjusted, watching her feet, then her shoulders, then realizing that none of it made sense unless he stopped trying to follow and started leading.
He stepped forward and placed a hand at her waist, firm but controlled, guiding her into a slower turn. Gina blinked in surprise but did not pull away. Instead, she let it happen, letting her movement settle into his. 'I'll allow you to lead me because you are my hot and sexy combo of a man.'
"There," Ray said quietly. "Now feel the count."
The music kept its strange rhythm, but their bodies found something steadier underneath it. Ray guided her through the steps, his hand steady at her back, the other catching her wrist and lifting it just enough to redirect her momentum. Gina adjusted instinctively, her movements smoothing out, her posture changing as she leaned into the lead.
"Well," she said in a low voice. "Look at you."
The distance between them shortened without either of them commenting on it. Gina's usual exaggerated flair softened into something more controlled. Her hand rested on his shoulder, fingers pressing lightly as she followed his cues. The dance slowed, not in speed but in intention, every movement stretching just a fraction longer than before.
Ray remained focused, but he was aware of the shift. He felt it in the way Gina matched his breathing, in the way her steps no longer fought his. The music faded into the background, reduced to a pulse that kept them moving together.
"Do not get used to this," Gina said, though she did not step back. "I am still the star."
Ray pulled her closer and looked into her eyes. "I know you are," he said, his voice low and steady. "That's why I'm going to kiss you, right now." Gina's eyes widened for a split second before she leaned in, closing the distance between them. Their lips met in a slow, deliberate press, soft and tender, the music still thrumming in the background. Ray's hand slid up her back, fingers tangling in her hair as he deepened the kiss.
Gina jumped into his arms, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him aggressively. Their tongues tangled and danced, mirroring the erratic rhythm of the music. Ray cupped her butt cheeks as he carried her and threw her on the bed before jumping up on the bed. He stood over her, looking at her like a predator.
Gina licked her lips as she moved her leg and pressed on Ray's crotch. She felt his boner and smirked. "Rip that shit off and show me that sexy body."
---
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