Five days later, the District Attorney's Office and the police bureau promptly held a joint press conference, confirming that Nick's shooting had been lawful and compliant with procedure. He could return to work as normal after his week-long critical incident leave ended.
Inspector Raynard also offered high praise for Officer Nick Burkhardt's courage and ability at the press conference.
"Even at the very last moment, our officer was still trying to use nonlethal force in the form of a Taser gun to protect the public...
"...but thanks to God and the police force's routine training, Officer Burkhardt was fortunate enough to survive..."
The middle-aged captain, whose looks had more than a touch of a Hollywood leading man about them, then announced on the spot that Nick would receive an exceptional promotion to Detective II and be transferred to the homicide unit under his direct command.
The person happiest about this was not Nick, but his old partner, Hancock.
Just as some police departments had major crimes units dedicated to serious homicides and special victims units handling sex crimes, domestic violence, and related cases, the PPB also had a homicide unit dedicated to murder cases, which could essentially be understood as a major crimes unit.
Not every new detective therefore had the chance to work homicides right away. Normally, rookie detectives like Nick, selected through an internal process, could only start by gaining experience handling thefts and robberies.
Inspector Raynard knew how to handle things. Not only had he given Nick an exceptional promotion, he had also arranged for his former partner, Hancock, who had now spent almost a year in the homicide unit, to partner with him again.
"So, have you seen the shrink the bureau arranged? Shooting someone for the first time is no joke." Seeing his old buddy arrive to report for duty in the detectives' office, the Black detective asked with concern.
Nick feigned puzzlement. "No problems there. Did you forget I minored in psychology in college? I do have one question, though. How come even the shrink I see turns out to be your ex-wife?"
Hancock instinctively reached out and pulled him aside, looking slightly embarrassed. "You met Wendy? That bitch didn't try to seduce you, did she? Her favorite hobby is sleeping with her clients."
"Relax. You know I've never been interested in 'artificial women.'" The thought of the Black female psychologist's millstone-sized "Kardashian ass" sent a slight chill through Nick. His admiration for his partner's indiscriminate tastes knew no bounds.
He still could not figure out how Hancock, who was under thirty just like him, could be so "accomplished"-not only had he divorced three times, he had emerged unscathed every time.
On second thought, though, every woman the guy married was either a lawyer or a psychologist. By comparison, a poor cop living in a run-down rental apartment hardly seemed worth collecting alimony from.
Nick had no cases to take on during his first day back at work. He filled out several forms in the office to apply for a long gun permit and an additional backup gun.
Buying a long gun in Oregon only required passing a federal background check through NICS, which naturally posed no problem for a PPB detective.
But a long gun purchased through ordinary civilian channels could only sit in a safe at home for self-defense.
Nick therefore planned to earn an advanced tactical shooting certificate from the USCCA, the concealed carry association. That way, he would only need to fill out two more forms to legally keep a semiautomatic assault rifle or carbine in the trunk of his police car.
The training was expensive, though. While the course itself was listed at just $1,500, once round-trip travel, meals, lodging, and ammunition were included, he would need at least $3,000-$4,000.
Nick owned a house and a car in this world. His biggest annual expenses were everyday living costs and a small amount of property tax. Although the PPB did not pay much, he had still saved over twenty thousand dollars over the past few years.
However, Nick had put all his savings into Bitcoin and stocks such as Apple, leaving him with little spare cash. Shelling out three or four thousand dollars at once stung somewhat, but he considered it a necessary expense.
He still had not figured out just what that shapeshifting guy was, whether a supernatural creature or something else. But since a barrage of his bullets had killed him, firearms clearly worked, which made increasing his firepower a necessity.
Not long after he submitted the application forms, Captain Renard summoned Nick to his office.
The middle-aged captain, with his Hollywood-star air, had typically Eastern European looks: green eyes, black hair, and sharply defined features. He stood nearly six foot three, a little taller than Nick.
Like a certain "Mr. July," Inspector Raynard had occupied the March page of the PPB police calendar for years, making him "Mr. March."
"I noticed your application for a long gun permit and reviewed your range scores. So, Nick, do you have any plans to pursue a role as a police instructor or join SWAT?"
Hearing his current immediate superior ask this, Nick paused briefly, then answered frankly about his plans. "I don't have a military background, so I'm not considering SWAT for now. My career goal is still to work toward becoming an excellent homicide detective."
Inspector Raynard did not respond immediately. Instead, he sat behind his desk and studied Nick with a penetrating gaze for a while before slowly speaking.
"The bureau still has money left in this year's annual training budget. Would you be interested in attending two weeks of professional training at Gunsite Academy?
"Not only can you earn your advanced tactical shooting certificate through this training, there's also an additional week of close-quarters combat training. It's an MCMAP course Gunsite Academy custom-designed for police departments."
MCMAP was a combat training system the Marine Corps had been promoting in recent years. It claimed to incorporate twenty-six martial arts, including Cyrus martial arts, Muay Thai, and karate, drawing on the strengths of each.
Nick was already an expert fighter himself, so MCMAP did not particularly appeal to him.
Although the PLA in his previous life had been known abroad for its secrecy, it had never rested on its laurels. It studied everything from practical Chinese martial arts to Russian Sambo, Israeli Krav Maga, and even Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu.
It had even developed specialized fighting techniques using spiked clubs, riot batons, and entrenching tools to deal with the particular conflicts on the southwestern border.
However, the police instructor role Inspector Raynard had mentioned did interest him somewhat. This was different from the patrol division's model of veteran officers training rookies. It was a professional skills instructor position serving the entire Portland Police Bureau and its more than a thousand field officers, a kind of internal side job.
Although Nick could knock Captain Bognar, who currently handled officers' combat training, senseless if he got serious, without certification he did not count as an expert and thus was not qualified to be an instructor.
Inspector Raynard seemed to be looking out for Nick, with some apparent intention of grooming him into a trusted lieutenant. Nick saw no reason to refuse the favor. After all, having someone higher up looking out for him was never a bad thing.
The gun permit issue was settled smoothly, but his plan to visit the morgue for another look at the body of the guy he had shot dead unexpectedly fell through.
The medical examiner told Nick that the family had already signed for the body and taken it away for burial.
The deceased's family seemed to have calmly accepted their relative's death just like that. They had neither threatened to sue the bureau nor declared that they would come after Nick. Their calm was a little eerie.
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