The entire crowd fell into stunned silence.
The other candidates had no idea what Damon Hart, this tall, handsome young man, had written for his answers to leave the three sergeants so utterly shocked.
Sergeant Shannick, who had glared at Damon like a ferocious beast only moments ago, was now acting so warmly toward him!
Before he had even finished the exam, he had extended a hearty, enthusiastic offer of employment!
“Since Sergeant Shannick has spoken, as the lead examiner, he’s ruled that you’ve passed the written test. Congratulations, Damon. You’ve cleared the internal written exam. Well done.”
Sergeant Julia Hayes gazed at Damon Hart with inviting eyes. This young man was a genuine talent.
She just wondered how he would fare on the shooting range, and how he would perform once he was on the force.
…
“But next comes the firearms qualification.”
“You have to understand, we’re LAPD city officers. We patrol the streets constantly, facing all kinds of emergencies and dangers. If your marksmanship is poor, you’re gambling with your own life.”
Damon Hart nodded in agreement with Julia’s words.
Guns were everywhere in America, and crime ran rampant—especially in Los Angeles, the real-life inspiration for the GTA city, with its sky-high crime rate.
Gangs and organized crime were nothing out of the ordinary here.
And there were no dedicated traffic police in the United States. Regular officers handled both traffic enforcement and criminal investigations.
As a city officer, Damon would spend long hours behind the wheel, patrolling every street and alley of the city, ready to respond to any crisis.
“I’ve got faith in you, brother. I bet your shooting is just as brilliant as your written answers.”
Sergeant Johnson ran a hand through his blond hair, clearly thrilled.
“I can’t wait to work alongside you. I’ve got a feeling you’ll make sergeant in a few short years. Let me send this exciting news to the guys on my S.W.A.T. team.”
With that,
Sergeant Johnson pulled out his phone, opened WhatsApp, and pulled up a group chat. The sergeants had their own networks, a group where like-minded officers chatted. Johnson shared the whole story of the day there.
Damon Hart’s attention, though, locked onto the S.W.A.T. Johnson had mentioned —
Special Weapons and Tactics.
That unit was legendary.
It had appeared in countless films and hit video games. As a self-described homebody, Damon knew all about it.
Sergeant Johnson must have come up through S.W.A.T. It was the elite tactical unit under the LAPD, home to the department’s finest combat operators.
“If I can get into S.W.A.T. through Johnson, it might be a huge help for cracking down on organized crime.”
“After all, that unit is built to take down violent extremists and go head-to-head with criminal syndicates.”
Damon Hart thought to himself.
Meanwhile, on his system interface, the progress for his first mission hit fifty percent.
That meant the written test was done. The shooting qualification was next.
Johnson chatted about the written exam in the S.W.A.T. group, and word spread fast through the station. Plenty of S.W.A.T. operators came down to the range on their break to watch Damon’s afternoon shooting test.
“Hey, you hear about this new recruit? Some kind of genius!”
“I almost flunked those old written questions myself. Can you believe this kid got fast-tracked after just five answers?”
“The word is his answers fit exactly what the department looks for. When they asked why the little girl wasn’t the one who ate the chocolate, he wrote that the suspect smeared chocolate on her mouth — and that he was guilty of sexual assault!”
“Oh my god, that’s brutal. We can use that line the next time we execute a search warrant on a suspect’s house!”
“Shannick’s sold on him. Shannick’s the gang bane of Los Angeles. He’s put down at least fifteen gang members over the years, easy.”
“Let’s head to the range. Let’s see how he shoots. If he’s good, we can fast-track him. He could join our S.W.A.T. team someday!”
…
A dozen burly S.W.A.T. operators showed up at the shooting range to watch.
Damon Hart, though, felt the pressure.
He had some shooting skill, but only basic proficiency — the level you picked up after three months of police academy training, just a beginner. Next to these S.W.A.T. tactical experts, his marksmanship was nothing special.
Everyone on S.W.A.T. was a seasoned operator. With so many sharp eyes watching, the pressure was intense.
“I need to finish this first mission to unlock stat and skill upgrades. I can’t blow this.”
Damon Hart used his basic firearms skill to inspect the M1911 before him, loaded rounds into the magazine with practiced, if unpolished, movements, seated the magazine, and racked the slide.
Damon had been a gun enthusiast in his past life. He’d always been fascinated by firearms and owned a few replica toys.
Every man loved guns.
Holding that cold, heavy black pistol in his hands felt surreal. He ached to draw it and empty the magazine into criminals right then.
“Alright, Officer Damon!”
Sergeant Julia Hayes spoke up. “Your target is a black-and-white bullseye fifteen meters downrange. You’ve got ten rounds. You need an eighty-point total to pass.”
Damon glanced at the target and blinked.
This target…
It was unusual. The bullseye was painted alternating black and white rings.
The ten-point center was a small white dot. The nine-point ring was black, the eight-point white, seven-point black — odd-numbered rings black, even-numbered white, nested one inside the other.
The passing score was eighty total points.
Damon Hart pondered. His basic shooting skill was only beginner-grade. To hit eighty points, he would need to average eight points per shot. Anyone who’d shot competitively knew that was no small feat. His baseline skill only averaged seven points a round.
The S.W.A.T. operators stood by with folded arms, watching. Sergeants Shannick, Johnson and Julia waited to see what he could do.
The pressure settled heavy on Damon.
If he passed this test, his first system mission would be complete, and he would get his first stat and skill boost. If he failed, he had no idea how long he would have to wait for another chance.
Damon Hart raised his pistol, aimed at the black-and-white target,
and opened fire!
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Ten shots in rapid succession.
He barely paused between shots to realign his sights. Normally, a shooter fired one round, fought the recoil, and re-aimed. Damon emptied the magazine in a burst, hardly aiming at all.
“What…?”
“Is he throwing it away?”
Confusion crossed Julia’s face.
The S.W.A.T. operators looked on, baffled. This was not the careful shooting they expected.
Even S.W.A.T. tactical specialists could not guarantee accuracy firing that fast, dumping a magazine in seconds.
“Damn it, what is he doing? I like the kid, but if his shooting is garbage, we can’t bring him on.”
Sergeant Shannick grunted.
He stepped forward, pulled the target paper down, and began calling out the scores.
“Five points…”
A number rang out.
A wave of disappointment washed over the crowd. Five points.
That was not good enough.
“Seven points…”
“Nine points…”
“Three points…”
“One point…”
Damn it!
As the numbers rolled out, the S.W.A.T. operators lost interest. That level of shooting was passable for a regular civilian, but subpar for a police officer.
Julia shook her head. It looked like Damon was going to wash out right here at the shooting test.
Shannick, too, looked disappointed. Word had spread, and there were too many witnesses. Normally, if no one was watching, he could fudge the score for Damon. Not now.
“Damn it. I really liked this kid. If he made full officer, the gangs of Los Angeles would have something to fear. Shame his shooting isn’t up to scratch.”
Shannick shook his head and announced the final total.
“Total: sixty-one points…”
“Failed.”
Disappointment spread through every onlooker.
Sergeant Johnson clapped Damon on the shoulder. “Brother, we’re all impressed by your sharp mind, but rules are rules. LAPD city can’t hire you. We can put in a request to transfer you to the state police, or out to a rural county post.”
Police in the United States fell into four tiers: federal, state, county, and city.
Federal agencies like the FBI and DEA operated nationwide.
State police handled state-level jurisdiction; the highway patrol officers seen in movies were mostly state troopers.
County sheriffs’ departments covered each county.
City police handled municipal law enforcement.
And in the United States, counties were larger than the cities inside them.
The LAPD was the municipal police force for the City of Los Angeles, within Los Angeles County, California — the department Damon was trying to join.
The four tiers were not hierarchical. State troopers did not outrank city officers; they operated mostly in parallel jurisdictions.
A spot with the LAPD was highly coveted. You only patrolled within the city limits, and commutes were easy. A transfer to state police meant endless highway patrol shifts, grueling, dangerous work.
“What a waste.”
“Guess we lost a rising star against the gangs. C’mon guys, let’s go lock a couple of bad guys up tonight to blow off steam.”
The S.W.A.T. operators shook their heads and turned to leave. They knew Damon could have made a name for himself with the LAPD. If he got stuck in state patrol, his chances of advancing would be slim.
…
But!
Right then!
“Hey, guys — wait a second!”
Sergeant Julia Hayes called out sharply.
Her eyes widened as she stared at the target sheet.
“This…”
Julia’s lips trembled. She pointed at the paper…
“What?”
Shannick and Johnson hurried over.
“What’s going on?”
…
Julia’s voice shook, as if she had uncovered something earth-shattering.
“Look!”
“His hits: nine, seven, five, three, one…”
“Every single hit is on an odd-numbered ring. Not a single even-numbered one!”
A hush fell.
Shannick caught on instantly.
He snapped his head up.
“Julia, are you saying…”
…
“Yes! Exactly!”
Julia rushed to explain.
“Odd-numbered rings…”
“All black! Officer Damon emptied that magazine in three seconds, barely aiming, and from ten meters away, every shot landed on the black zones. Every shot hit its mark!”
A low hiss rippled through the air.
The entire shooting range fell dead silent.