"How's it look, brother?"
With the engine roaring, Wilson slowly pulled up in front of Li Jie. "To celebrate your return to the Police Department, I brought this old relic out especially for a couple of laps with you."
"It's hardly a relic. It isn't even two years old yet."
Li Jie ran a hand over the claw marks and scratches on the E-350, opened the passenger door, and patted the seat.
"Ah... it's been so long since we went on patrol together."
Beep! Beep!
The horn sounded twice. Wilson gave him a disgruntled look. "Why don't you say that to me?"
"Don't sweat the details." Li Jie slipped into the van. "I haven't been out and about in ages. I'm starting to rust."
"Cut the crap!"
Wilson started the engine as he spoke. "Your wheelchair was still doing forty miles an hour two days ago."
The Patrol Van wheezed heavily, but its engine still had plenty of power. It launched off the ramp of the Underground Garage like a whale breaching the ocean.
Half a second later, its broad, blowout-resistant tires slammed into the ground. The suspension compressed to its limit with a dull thud, then bounced sharply several times.
"Woo-hoo!!!"
Wilson whooped, floored the accelerator, and charged out of the parking lot.
The East End had once had the highest crime rate in all of Gotham. Ordinary patrol officers were reluctant to venture deep into its alleys and slums; it was all too easy to go in and never come out.
The walls were covered in faded graffiti and bullet holes. Men in hoodies gathered at alley entrances, watching intruders like hyenas lurking in the shadows.
But now, everything seemed to have changed. Those dilapidated, gloomy buildings had been demolished and rebuilt, the roads widened. The idle