As evening fell, Commissioner George Hale finally stepped away from the mountain of paperwork on his desk.
His head was pounding.
Outside the police station, a swarm of reporters still crowded the street. Every one of them was waiting for a chance to interview Noah Vale, the young man who had single-handedly ended the bank robbery.
To avoid making the situation worse—and to protect Noah's personal information—George had already arranged for Noah and his lawyer to leave through a back exit earlier in the day.
Even so, the city was in an uproar.
A robbery that the NYPD had struggled to resolve for hours had been ended by a teenager in a matter of minutes. That alone was enough to fuel endless debate.
Add Noah's striking appearance into the mix, and the story had exploded.
Some people were fascinated by the spectacle.
Others were simply captivated by the face attached to it.
After a full afternoon of online discussion, the internet had already started giving Noah dramatic nicknames.
"New York's Savior."
"The NYPD's Secret Weapon."
"Robin Hood of the 21st Century."
On television, a news anchor spoke with barely concealed criticism.
"The NYPD's humiliating failure in today's bank robbery has become a nationwide topic. Former FBI director J. Edgar Hoover once criticized law enforcement agencies for losing the public's trust, and many commentators believe today's events echo those concerns…"
Inside City Hall, Mayor Eric Adams turned off the television.
He looked around the conference room at the senior members of the police department.
"You've all seen the public response," he said bluntly. "This incident has seriously damaged the government's image in the eyes of New Yorkers."
He folded his hands on the table.
"This situation needs to be resolved immediately."
The officers in the room exchanged uneasy glances.
Normally, the mayor rarely interfered in police matters. For him to suddenly show this much interest felt… unusual.
But a few people understood exactly what was happening.
The next election cycle was approaching.
Bad publicity could cost votes.
And right now, the police department had become a public relations disaster.
"The core issue is simple," the mayor continued. "Public opinion has turned against us."
He scanned the room.
"I called you here to hear solutions."
His gaze settled on George.
"Commissioner Hale, since you were directly involved in the incident, why don't you start?"
George hadn't expected to be put on the spot.
He stood slowly.
"I believe the department should invest more heavily in officer training," he began carefully. "Improving response times and tactical preparation—"
"Alright, that's enough," the mayor interrupted quickly.
"You're not wrong, but I'm looking for something that works immediately."
He turned toward the deputy commissioner.
"Do you have any ideas?"
The deputy commissioner hesitated before standing.
"Well… there might be one approach."
Everyone looked at him.
"The public outrage started because of that young man," he said. "People are comparing him to the police department."
He paused.
"So why not bring him onto our side?"
The mayor leaned forward slightly.
"Go on."
"If we recruit him," the deputy commissioner continued, "the narrative changes instantly."
He spoke more confidently as the idea took shape.
"Right now the public sees a lone civilian outperforming the NYPD. But if that same person becomes part of the department, the story becomes something else entirely."
He raised a finger.
"We issue a statement acknowledging the incident, announce that the young man who stopped the robbery is joining the police as a special consultant…"
"Public attention will shift to him instead of criticizing us."
The mayor's eyes lit up.
"And it makes the government appear responsive to public opinion," the deputy added. "Instead of looking arrogant and disconnected."
The idea sounded better the more he explained it.
George frowned.
"But that kid hasn't even graduated high school yet," he said. "There's never been a precedent for something like this."
"That's not a problem," the deputy commissioner replied.
"We don't hire him as a regular officer."
He smiled slightly.
"We give him an honorary title—Special Police Consultant."
"He wouldn't even need to handle actual cases. His name alone would support the department."
The mayor nodded slowly.
"With the right media strategy," the deputy continued, "we could even present him as the new face of modern policing."
"He's young, charismatic, and extremely photogenic. Honestly, he could do more for the department's public image than half our PR campaigns."
The mayor slapped the table lightly.
"Good."
"We'll do it."
He looked toward George.
"Since this idea concerns your case, Commissioner Hale, you'll be responsible for carrying it out."
George blinked.
"…Me?"
"Of course you," the mayor said. "You're the only person here who has actually interacted with the young man."
George glanced around the room.
His colleagues had subtly leaned back in their chairs, distancing themselves from the problem.
The mayor spoke calmly.
"This issue concerns the government's reputation."
He gave George a pointed look.
"If I remember correctly, you're nearing the end of your five-year term as commissioner."
His tone softened slightly.
"I'd hate to see you lose momentum in the final stretch."
The message was clear.
George sighed quietly.
"…Understood."
"I'll speak with him and try to convince him."
The mayor shook his head.
"Not try."
"You will succeed."
Late that night, inside the gym, Noah finally stopped moving.
For hours he had been squatting with three heavily loaded barbells across his shoulders.
The system interface flickered faintly in his mind.
His mental capacity had improved again.
Noah set the bars down carefully.
Outside the gym's windows, the sky had long since gone dark.
He had been training nonstop for seven or eight hours.
Strangely enough, he didn't feel tired at all.
Only hungry.
Smith approached cautiously.
"Done for the night?"
"You can head home," Noah said. "I'm staying here tonight."
Smith nodded.
Noah's home situation had almost certainly been uncovered by reporters already. If he went back now, he'd probably find a crowd of journalists camped outside his apartment.
The gym owner had already said he could use the place twenty-four hours a day.
For now, this would do.
Noah stepped outside to find food.
But before he reached the street, his phone rang.
An unfamiliar number appeared on the screen.
After a moment of hesitation, he answered.
"Hello?"
"Is this Noah Vale?" a familiar voice asked.
"This is Commissioner George Hale. We met earlier today."
Noah remembered the middle-aged police chief immediately.
"Yes?"
"I have a few things related to the police department that I'd like to discuss with you," George said.
"What are you doing right now?"
Noah considered.
"Nothing important," he replied. "I was about to grab dinner."
There was a brief pause on the other end.
"That works perfectly," George said.
"I haven't eaten yet either. If you don't mind, why don't you come over to my house and join us for dinner?"
Noah frowned slightly.
Dinner?
The invitation felt… unexpected.
But if the police commissioner had bad intentions, inviting him to his own home would be a strange way to go about it.
"Alright," Noah said finally.
"Send me the address."
After writing down the location, Noah hung up and started heading toward George's house.
Just as he pocketed his phone—
It rang again.
Another unknown number.